Chapter 8 - The Price of Greed
By evening, the news had swept across New England financial circles like wildfire. Sterling Capital’s stock had plummeted to zero as emergency liquidators froze all corporate assets under anti-racketeering statutes. Vivian and Paige were placed under house arrest pending formal arraignment for extortion, assault, and obstruction of justice.
Paige, realizing that her mother’s iron grip had finally shattered, panicked. Under the cover of darkness, while federal guards were processing paperwork in the west wing, Paige packed two designer suitcases stuffed with heirloom jewelry, bearer bonds, and her passport, slipping out through the servants' exit toward the private helipad behind the stables.
She didn't know that every exit from Blackthorn House was monitored by Crown operatives. As she reached the tarmac, the beam of a high-intensity tactical flashlight pinned her against the snow.
Marcus stepped out from the shadows of the pine trees, his expression impassioned and unyielding. "Going somewhere, Miss Sterling?"
Paige dropped her Gucci luggage in terror, stumbling backward into the snow. "Let me go! My mother will pay you anything! Name your price! A million? Ten million?!"
"The Crown does not negotiate with thieves, Miss Paige," Marcus said smoothly, gesturing two operatives forward to secure her wrists with zip-ties. "Besides, your mother's accounts have all been seized. You couldn't afford a cup of coffee at a roadside diner right now, let alone our services."
She was bundled into the back of a black SUV and driven not to the local precinct, but to a secure federal detention facility where prosecutors were waiting to offer her a simple choice: cooperate fully against Vivian or spend the next thirty years in a maximum-security penitentiary.
Back at our private residence in Burlington, far away from the ancestral ghosts of Blackthorn House, Claire sat by the fireplace wrapped in a soft cashmere throw, watching the flames crackle. I poured two cups of herbal tea, handing one to her before sitting on the sofa opposite her.
"Paige tried to flee to the Canadian border ten minutes ago," I said calmly, sipping my tea.
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Claire looked up, her expression a mix of sorrow and closure. "Did your men catch her?"
"Easily. She’s currently answering questions about the night her father died."
