Chapter 7 - Celeste’s Reckoning (~1,500 words)
While Grant remained locked in his cell, Celeste Vale was sitting in a plush leather chair in the high-end coffee shop across from Charlotte’s criminal court building.
She was nervously checking her reflection in her compact mirror, smoothing her bleached blonde hair, waiting for Grant’s lawyer to meet her. She was convinced that once Grant was released, they would take the insurance payout and flee to Miami.
The coffee shop door opened, but it wasn't Harold Finch who walked in.
It was my second brother, Marcus Vance, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit, accompanied by two civil process servers.
Celeste instantly straightened up, her eyes wide with alarm. "You... you're one of her brothers."
"Celeste Vale," Marcus said calmly, sitting down across from her without asking. He slid a thick blue folder onto the marble table. "Drink your coffee. You're going to need it."
"What is this?" Celeste gasped, backing away from the folder like it was a venomous snake. "I didn't do anything illegal! Grant was the one who hit her! I was just standing there!"
"You were an active co-conspirator in an attempted extortion and false imprisonment," Marcus said, pulling out a tablet. "And as of twenty minutes ago, you’ve been officially served with a five-million-dollar civil defamation and fraud lawsuit."
Celeste’s jaw dropped. "Five million dollars?! I don't have five million dollars! I’m an influencer!"
Marcus smiled—a cold, ruthless smile. "We know. In fact, we looked into your 'influencing' career, Celeste."
He tapped the screen, displaying a series of financial records.
"Over the past eighteen months, you accepted over three hundred thousand dollars in cash and gifts from Grant Ashford—funded directly through stolen Ashford Logistics corporate funds," Marcus explained. "Every purse, every lease payment on your sports car, every designer dress—including that silver wrap you slashed—was bought with stolen money."
Celeste turned pale. "No... Grant gave those to me as gifts!"
"And under federal law, gifts purchased with the proceeds of corporate fraud are subject to immediate asset forfeiture," Marcus said smoothly. "The sheriff's department is currently at your apartment seizing your wardrobe, your jewelry, and your car."
"You can't do this to me!" Celeste shrieked, drawing stares from other customers in the café. "I have fourteen thousand followers! I'll post about this! I'll tell everyone what you're doing!"
Marcus leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper that made Celeste shudder. "Leo has already taken down your social media accounts under a court injunction for cyber-harassment. Your sponsors have canceled your contracts. By tonight, every modeling agency in the city will blacklist you."
Tears of real panic—not the fake ones she had shed in the wine cellar—began streaming down Celeste's cheeks. "Please... I’ll apologize to Claire! I'll go on live video and tell everyone I lied about the silk wrap! I'll tell them Grant forced me to do it!"
"You will do that anyway," Marcus said, standing up and buttoning his jacket. "Because if you don't sign a full sworn confession by 5:00 PM today, my legal team will ensure you are named as a primary co-defendant in Grant's federal wire fraud trial."
Marcus left a twenty-dollar bill on the table for her untouched coffee.
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"Have a nice day, Celeste," he said softly, turning and walking out into the afternoon sun.
Celeste sat alone at the table, clutching her face, sobbing as her glamour, her followers, and her stolen luxury lifestyle vanished into complete ruin.
