Chapter 10 - The Trap is Set
Armed with the knowledge of Vivian and Richard Sterling’s historical partnership, Arthur Pendelton and I worked through the weekend with the federal financial crimes unit. We cross-referenced the old offshore routing numbers Vivian used for the Whitmore embezzlement scheme with the dormant bank accounts tied to Richard Sterling’s vanished estate.
The audit yielded a smoking gun: a direct money transfer executed just three days before my wedding, moving four million dollars from a hidden Whitmore shell account into an overseas trust controlled by a proxy acting for Richard Sterling—who, as it turned out, was living under an assumed identity in the Cayman Islands.
“We have them,” Arthur said triumphantly, slamming his pen down on the conference table in our makeshift war room. “Not only is Vivian facing grand larceny and corporate fraud for the Whitmore bankruptcy, but this new wire transfer proves she conspired with a fugitive from federal justice to loot corporate assets right out from under the board.”
“And what about Julian?” Dad asked, sitting across from us with a tired expression. “If Julian’s uncle is still alive, does Julian know where he is?”
“Julian knows everything,” I said, standing up and pacing toward the whiteboard where we had mapped out the entire corporate web. “He didn't just stumble into our lives by coincidence. He knew the Whitmores were using his family’s old network to run their scams, and he bought that mezzanine debt specifically to force a showdown.”
“So what’s our next move, Claire?” Arthur asked, adjusting his glasses. “Do we hand the file over to Agent Vance and let the marshals pick up Vivian at her arraignment?”
“No,” I said, stopping in front of the whiteboard and drawing a sharp circle around Vivian’s name. “If we just hand it to the feds, she’ll try to cut a plea deal and shift the blame onto minor subordinates. We need to cut off every possible escape route. We need to trap her in a public setting where she can’t lie her way out.”
“A public setting?” Dad frowned. “Like what?”
“The annual Whitmore Hotels Charity Gala,” I smiled coldly. “It’s scheduled for this coming Friday night. The entire board, the city’s elite, and the state attorney general’s office will be in attendance. Vivian planned to use that gala to announce her triumphant return to society and rally her remaining allies.”
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“And we’re going to crash it,” Arthur grinned.
“Not just crash it,” I corrected him. “We’re going to host it. Bennett Construction now controls the majority of the hotel’s primary real estate assets. We hold the venue lease. Vivian won’t even be on the guest list—unless we invite her.”
