Chapter 19 - Stripping the Matriarch
The lead detective approached Beatrice, unrolling a formal warrant of arrest.
"Lady Beatrice Vance," the detective stated in a flat, unyielding tone.
"You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit securities fraud, money laundering, and inciting an attempted homicide in federal custody."
The media cameras went berserk, flashbulbs exploding like fireworks across the stone ceiling.
Beatrice dropped her cane.
The gold handle clattered against the stone floor, rolling until it hit the toe of my Christian Louboutin heel.
I did not kick it away.
I stepped on it, pinning it to the cold floor.
"You think you have won, you insolent little girl?" Beatrice snarled as the two officers grabbed her wrists, pulling them behind her back.
Her face was purple with rage, her silver hair spilling out of its pins.
"You have destroyed nothing!" she shrieked, spitting on the polished floor.
"You think Camden was the only secret we buried in your life?"
"You think Arthur Alden was a saint who died of natural heart failure?"
Those words struck deeper than any financial blow ever could.
"What did you say?" I whispered, taking a step toward her.
Beatrice laughed maniacally as the officers dragged her toward the police cruisers.
"Go look at the numbers Camden carved on his cell wall, Vivian!" she screamed over the clicks of the cameras.
"Go look at what your father hid in the mausoleum before Camden poisoned his whiskey six years ago!"
"You slept with your father’s killer for three thousand nights and called him your husband!"
The grand hall fell into a dead, horrified silence.
The reporters stopped shouting.
The police officers paused for a fraction of a second before shoving Beatrice out the revolving doors into the flashing rain.
I stood frozen in the center of the hall, the ground feeling completely hollow beneath my feet.
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Camden didn't just marry me for money.
Camden had murdered my father.
