Chapter 8 - The Mistress’s Vault
While Evelyn was being evicted from the estate, Preston was desperately racing his sports car toward the Pearl District in downtown Portland.
He pulled into the subterranean parking garage of an ultra-luxury high-rise condominium tower, taking the private elevator to Penthouse 4B.
The penthouse belonged to Camille Laurent—Preston’s secret mistress and the chief marketing officer of Vance Maritime for the past three years.
Preston burst through the door, finding Camille frantically packing designer luggage across the grand living room.
“Camille! Thank God you’re here!” Preston gasped, running over to the master bedroom closet.
“Open the hidden floor safe behind the shoe racks! We need the bearer bonds and the forged Bahamian passports right now!”
Camille stopped packing, looking at Preston with cold, detached amusement as she crossed her arms over her silk blouse.
“You’re too late, Preston,” Camille said softly, taking a slow sip of her iced coffee.
Preston’s eyes widened in sheer panic as two federal marshals stepped out of the master bathroom, their hands resting on their holstered firearms.
Sitting on the leather sofa behind the dining table was Assistant United States Attorney Claire Montgomery, reviewing a stack of offshore bank registries.
“Camille… what is this?” Preston stammered, backing away toward the front door.
“Did you call the feds?”
“I didn't call them, Preston; they called me three weeks ago when Valerie provided the uncorrupted ledger of your embezzlement pipeline,” Camille revealed with a cruel smirk.
“I signed a full immunity agreement this morning, turning over every encrypted drive and every diamond necklace you bought me with stolen pension funds.”
The federal marshals moved forward with blinding speed, grabbing Preston by his arms and slamming him face-first onto the glass dining table.
The sharp, metallic click of heavy steel handcuffs echoed through the penthouse as his arms were wrenched behind his back.
“Preston Vance, under Federal Case 1042, your bail is officially revoked,” the lead marshal announced, driving his knee into Preston’s lower back.
“You are charged with federal wire fraud, interstate money laundering, corporate extortion, and attempted murder.”
Preston thrashing against the glass, screaming obscenities at Camille as his expensive suit was torn and stained with spilled coffee.
“You traitor! I gave you everything! I was going to make you the mistress of Vance Maritime!”
Camille looked down at him with profound, mocking pity as the marshals hauled him to his feet.
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“You were never going to make me anything, Preston,” Camille whispered.
“You were just an arrogant little boy who thought he could steal an empire from a woman who was ten times smarter than you.”
