The second security guard named Marcus drew his own weapon and pointed it at Arthur.
Marcus had served Vincent's personal team for years and trusted his boss completely.
Marcus: Keep your hands where everyone can see them, Arthur.
Arthur slowly raised his hands into the air while a cold smirk formed on his lips.
Arthur: You think a bank key is going to stand up in a real courtroom, kid?
Arthur: Your uncle owns the judges and the lawyers in this entire state.
Vincent turned back to Clara and took out his personal phone from his jacket.
Vincent: Call my personal estate lawyer, David, right now on speakerphone.
The phone rang three times before the sharp voice of his lawyer answered the call.
David: Vincent, where are you? Your uncle is calling a board meeting to freeze your trust fund.
Vincent: I am standing in a diner with the truth about my mother's death.
Vincent: Meet me at the First National Bank downtown in fifteen minutes with the police chief.
David paused for a second on the line when he heard the absolute seriousness in Vincent's voice.
David: I will be standing on the bank steps before you even get there, Vincent.
Vincent looked at Clara and gently reached across the metal counter to touch her hand.
Vincent: Come with us to the bank, Clara.
Vincent: You have hidden in fear for thirty years, but today that ends forever.
Clara nodded her head as relief washed over her tired, worn face.
She untied her yellow apron uniform and laid it neatly on the silver counter.
Clara: I have carried this heavy secret for too long, Vincent.
They walked out of the diner into the bright sunlight of the afternoon sky.
Arthur was placed into the back of Marcus's black sedan under heavy guard.
Vincent drove his own luxury car toward the center of the small city.
The brass key sat in his cup holder, shining brightly in the warm sunlight.
He felt a strange sense of hope rising inside his heart for the very first time.