Chapter 12 - The Projection of Treason
I pressed a button on my encrypted tablet, overriding the ballroom's audiovisual system through the federal satellite link. The gigantic projector screens behind the stage flickered, replacing the forged psychiatric reports with the unredacted digital audit of the Sterling offshore accounts.
A chorus of horrified gasps swept through the ballroom as the screens displayed the chemical receipts for digitalis purchased by Victoria's private shell companies. Beneath the receipts was the recorded video deposition of Dr. Richard Sterling, detailing how Victoria had paid him half a million dollars to falsify my father's autopsy report.
Then, the main screen switched to high-definition security footage captured inside Victoria's private study three weeks prior. The audio boomed through the ballroom speakers with crystal clarity: Once the five-year deadline passes at midnight, we will arrange a fatal overdose for Sienna in Geneva and claim the entire four hundred million.
Victoria collapsed against the mahogany podium, her knees buckling as her entire life's ambition was dismantled before millions of live television viewers. The corrupt attorneys and judges who had supported her quickly backed away, attempting to melt into the crowd to avoid the cameras.
"As of eleven-fifty-eight PM, the Vance sovereign trust has officially been restored under my sole, independent authority," I announced to the room. "And under Federal Warrant 8842, Victoria Sterling is remanded into federal custody for capital murder, corporate espionage, and interstate racketeering."
The clock above the fireplace chimed midnight: BONG! BONG! BONG! Twelve heavy, metallic tolls echoed through the room, sounding the final death knell of the Sterling dynasty.
The Lead Federal Marshal stepped onto the stage, clicking a pair of heavy steel handcuffs around Victoria's manicured wrists. Victoria thrashed against the restraints, shrieking profanities as her pristine ivory gown was dragged across the polished stage.
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"You won't survive without me, Zachary!" Victoria screamed, spitting venom at her son as the marshals pulled her toward the exit. "You are nothing! A nameless street rat who will rot in the gutter!"
Zachary looked down at her with serene, unbroken dignity. "I am a Vance, Victoria... and our family finally knows how to take out the trash."
