Chapter 9 - The Landowner Speaks
Grant Whitmore stared at the screen as if his mind had fractured into a thousand pieces.
"No..." he gasped, shaking his head violently. "No, no, that's impossible. Charles told me... Charles said the resort was managed by a consortium..."
"My father told you that because he saw right through you the day you walked into our house," Evelyn said coldly. "He knew that if you knew I owned this land, you would try to bleed it dry. So he protected me. And he gave me the power to bury you the moment you tried."
"Security!" Patricia shrieked again, her face white as parchment, clutching her chest. "Where is the security for this hotel?! Remove this woman! Grant is the CEO!"
The double doors at the side of the stage swung open.
Thomas Ellery walked through, flanked by four uniformed officers from the Monterey County Sheriff's Department and two federal agents in dark suits.
Patricia breathed a ragged sigh of relief. "Thank God! Arrest her! She hacked the presentation! She’s slandering my son!"
The lead federal agent didn't even look at Patricia.
He walked directly up the stage stairs, followed by two deputies. He pulled a badge and a signed warrant from his coat.
"Grant Whitmore?" the agent asked.
Grant looked up, trembling, unable to stand. "I... I have rights... I have investors—"
"Grant Whitmore, you are under arrest for federal bank fraud, identity theft, aggravated interstate wire fraud, and grand larceny," the agent declared, his voice carrying over the silent pavilion. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
The deputies pulled Grant up by his arms. The silver handcuffs clicked around his wrists with a cold, metallic snap.
"Mom! Dad!" Grant wailed, struggling against the deputies' grip, his shoe losing its loafer on the stairs. "Do something! Call our attorneys! Douglas, help me!"
Douglas Whitmore didn't move. He sat in his chair, staring at the floor, his face gray with total ruin. He knew the Whitmore name was finished. The legal fees alone from an eight-million-dollar federal bank fraud indictment would wipe out their estate.
Mallory was frantically trying to delete her morning social media posts, her hands shaking so badly she dropped her phone on the stone floor, cracking the glass.
Down near the exit, two other officers approached Sienna Blake.
"Miss Blake," the second agent said. "You are named as a co-conspirator in the grand jury indictment for Azure Horizon LLC. Please step forward and keep your hands visible."
Sienna began to weep hysterically, pulling her designer jacket tightly around herself as the cold steel handcuffs locked around her wrists. "It was Grant! It was all Grant’s idea! I have the text messages! I’ll testify! I’ll tell you everything!"
"You can tell the United States Attorney," the officer replied, leading her out through the side doors.
Grant was dragged down the main aisle, past the forty investors who had once considered backing him. Not a single person met his eyes. Men who had clinked whiskey glasses with him yesterday turned their backs in disgust.
As they reached the exit, Grant twisted around, looking back at the stage one last time.
"Evelyn!" he screamed, his voice breaking into a desperate sob. "Evie! Please! I love you! You can't do this to me! Think of our five years! Evie!"
Evelyn stood in the center of the stage, framed by the sapphire Pacific Ocean behind the glass.
She reached up to her left hand.
Slowly, deliberately, she slid off her platinum wedding band.
She dropped it onto the hardwood floor of the stage. It rolled twice, hit the base of the podium, and fell completely silent.
"Take him away," Evelyn said.
May you like
The heavy oak doors closed behind Grant Whitmore, cutting off his cries forever.
***
