If you want to be Silas’s wife, you take care of his mess, or you get back on the plane to Ohio.
The live broadcast continued, Gemma’s voice, clear and unyielding, exposing Victoria’s every crime to 12 million global viewers. Victoria screamed, flailing in the harsh spotlight, but her fury was useless. The world was watching.
From the Topanga Canyon Sheriff’s command center, a room full of deputies and federal marshals sat glued to their screens. The emergency satellite feed had overridden all local channels, broadcasting the shocking scene live.
“That’s enough!” a federal marshal barked into his radio. “We have probable cause for arrest. Mobilize heavy equipment, clear the mudslides. Now!”
Within minutes, the distant rumble of powerful engines grew louder, cutting through the fading sounds of the storm. Heavy bulldozers, their lights piercing the still-dark canyon, began to claw at the earth, pushing aside the fallen trees and tons of mud.
The estate gates, which had seemed so impenetrable, were finally breached.
The first vehicle through the cleared path was an official Federal Marshal’s SUV, followed closely by several Los Angeles County Sheriff’s patrol cars. Their sirens, muffled by the mud, grew steadily louder.
The uniformed officers, grim-faced and purposeful, stormed through the shattered front doors of the mansion.
“Victoria Finch!” one of the Federal Marshals announced, his voice booming over the lingering sounds of Gemma’s broadcast. “You are under arrest for child neglect, embezzlement of minor trust funds, and corporate fraud!”
Victoria, still reeling from the live exposure, struggled against the guards who had remained loyal to her. But it was over.
Two marshals moved swiftly, their hands finding her wrists. The cold click of handcuffs echoed in the shocked silence.
Victoria Finch, the legendary studio mogul, was led away in rain-drenched disgrace. Her hair, once perfectly coiffed, was now a tangled mess, her designer suit plastered to her body. She cast one final, venomous glare at Julian, then at me, but there was no power left in her eyes.
Her security guards were also taken into custody, their complicity in the cover-up now undeniable.
News helicopters, alerted by the unprecedented live broadcast, circled overhead like vultures, their powerful spotlights illuminating the chaos below. Their rotors chopped the air, a final, thunderous punctuation mark to Victoria’s downfall.
Silas, his face streaked with tears of relief and exhaustion, embraced Eli and Maya, then pulled me into a tight, desperate hug. The children, wide-eyed but safe, clung to us.
The storm was passing. The darkness, both literal and metaphorical, was finally breaking.
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