Chapter 6 - The Fall of the Court
The news swept through Los Angeles high society like a wildfire fueled by high winds.
By 5:00 PM, the story was the lead segment on every local and national news network. The footage leaked to the press didn't include the violent assault—out of respect for Alora’s privacy—but the mugshots of Corrine Sterling and Sloan Sterling were plastered across every major news portal in North America.
The social fallout was instant, total, and brutal.
Corrine’s name was scrubbed from the board of the Los Angeles Philharmonic within forty-five minutes of the news release. The Aspen Country Club revoked her thirty-year membership before nightfall. The Beverly Hills boutiques where Sloan had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on credit lines immediately filed emergency civil claims to seize her designer inventory.
I sat in my office with Arthur as he read through the incoming reports.
“Sloan’s defense attorney tried to file an emergency motion for bail reduction this afternoon,” Arthur said, sliding a document across the desk. “Judge Evelyn Vance denied the motion outright, citing the high flight risk and the severe nature of the recorded evidence.”
“And Croft?” I asked.
“Julian Croft cracked like an egg,” Arthur chuckled dryly. “The moment he realized he was facing ten years for notarizing forged power-of-attorney documents, he signed a full confession. He admitted that Corrine paid him fifty thousand dollars to forge your signature on six separate estate documents over the last eighteen months.”
“Six?” I raised an eye, my voice dropping. “What were the other four?”
Arthur pulled four blue-bound legal folders from his briefcase and laid them out on the table.
“Two years ago, Corrine forged your signature to name herself as the primary beneficiary of your personal twenty-million-dollar life insurance policy,” Arthur explained, his tone growing serious. “Eight months ago, she forged a deed transfer attempt for your coastal property in Malibu. And three months ago... she attempted to file a conditional guardianship petition for your unborn child, claiming Alora was mentally unfit.”
A cold, razor-sharp stillness settled over the room.
They hadn't just tried to rob my safe the night before. Corrine had spent the last eighteen months constructing a legal cage around my life, waiting for the precise moment to pull the latch. If I had died in a private plane crash or suffered an accident, Corrine would have stepped into my estate as the sole legal guardian of my fortune and my child, leaving Alora penniless and institutionalized.
“Arthur,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, but vibrating with absolute authority.
“Yes, Thane?”
“I want every asset ever held in Corrine’s or Sloan’s names seized under civil forfeiture for fraud. I want their bank accounts drained to pay back the legal fees incurred by my estate. And I want the Aspen house listed on the market tomorrow morning at fifty percent of market value for a quick cash sale.”
“What will you do with the proceeds from the Aspen sale?” Arthur asked.
May you like
I looked down at the photograph of Alora’s latest ultrasound resting on my desk.
“Donate every single dollar to the St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital under Alora’s name,” I replied. “I want Corrine’s ultimate legacy to be funding the survival of children she will never meet.”
