The heavy double doors at the main entrance chimed as four uniformed police officers pushed their way onto the marble floor, led by Detective Vance in a dark trench coat.
Detective Vance: Arthur Sterling?
Arthur: Detective! Thank God you are here! My son and his accomplice just staged an illegal corporate takeover of my company!
Detective Vance: We are not here regarding your corporate takeover, Mr. Sterling. We received an emergency dispatch from the state prosecutor's office twenty minutes ago.
Arthur: What dispatch?! On what grounds?!
Detective Vance: Grand wire fraud, tax evasion, and forty million dollars of illegal offshore money laundering tied to your late wife's estate trust fund.
Arthur froze, his mouth hanging open in utter horror as Detective Vance pulled an official arrest warrant from his jacket folder.
Detective Vance: Your chief financial officer gave a full digital confession to federal agents in Chicago an hour ago, Mr. Sterling. He handed over every offshore account number you created in Nassau.
Arthur: Marcus... Marcus betrayed me?!
Julian: Marcus saved himself from a twenty-year prison sentence, Father. Something you won't be able to do.
Detective Vance: Officers, take him into custody.
The two uniformed officers stepped forward, pulling Arthur up from his gold chair and forcing his hands behind his dark tuxedo jacket. The cold, sharp click of steel handcuffs echoed clearly through the silent ballroom.
Arthur: Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am?! I am Arthur Sterling!
Detective Vance: You have the right to remain silent, sir. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.
The officers turned Arthur around, escorting him down the center aisle past two hundred guests who held up their smartphones, capturing every second of his humiliation on video.
Guest A: Look at the billionaire in handcuffs!
Guest B: He tried to cheat his son and his wife, and now he's going to prison!
Arthur thrashed against the officers' grip, trying to hide his face from the flashing camera lenses, but photographers waiting near the front driveway captured every second of his ruined, tear-stained expression.
The heavy glass front doors opened, and the cool afternoon breeze rushed into the foyer as Arthur was pushed into the back seat of the lead police cruiser. The heavy metal door slammed shut with a sharp thud, cutting off his angry shouting once and for all.
Julian turned to me, holding out the brown leather binder with a quiet, respectful nod.
Julian: The prenuptial agreement Arthur forced you to sign thirty years ago was officially nullified by the state court thirty minutes ago, Clara. You hold twenty-five percent of the liquid corporate assets.
Clara: I don't want your corporate assets, Julian. I just want to leave this mansion and never see another lie again.
Julian: The estate penthouse in New York is registered under your name permanently, Clara. You can leave whenever you are ready.