Chapter 12 - THE DEPOSITIONS OF WRATH
By noon, the fallout reached the Vance family matriarch.
Victoria Vance, Julian’s mother, did not bother calling before storming into my executive reception floor.
She wore a mink coat and carried an heirloom handbag, but her face was pale with fury.
"Clara!" Victoria barked as she pushed past two bewildered receptionists.
"What is the meaning of this monstrous practical joke?"
I remained seated behind my mahogany desk, surrounded by stacks of forensic audit binders.
"Take a seat, Victoria," I said, pointing toward the leather chair across from me.
"How dare you speak to me in that tone!" Victoria snarled, slamming her jeweled hands onto my desk.
"Julian is my son! You ruined his reputation in front of every investor in North America last night!"
"Your son embezzled twenty-two million dollars from Sterling subsidiary accounts," I replied coldly.
"And according to these bank drafts, nearly four million of that money paid off the mortgages on your Palm Beach villas."
Victoria froze, her manicured fingers trembling against the polished wood.
"You... you wouldn't dare implicate family," she whispered, her arrogant facade crumbling.
"You never considered me family," I told her plainly.
"For eight years, you treated me like an unpaid maid whenever you visited."
"You had me serve your tea on fine silver while you mocked my background to your socialite friends."
"Clara, we took you in when you had nothing!" Victoria gasped.
"My father died, Victoria, but I was never empty-handed," I reminded her.
"I handed your son an empire to test his character, and he failed on every conceivable level."
"Arthur, escort Mrs. Vance to the ground floor and notify the district attorney's financial crime team."
Victoria backed away toward the door, terror finally replacing her venom.
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"You will burn in hell for this, Clara!" she hissed before the guards took her arm.
"I have already survived eight years of purgatory in your home," I murmured as the doors clicked shut.
