Chapter 6 - The Freefall
The ballroom fractured into chaos. Camera shutters clicked in violent bursts, capturing the exact second the mask slipped from Grant’s face. The polished, golden-boy exterior didn't just crack—it shattered into raw, ugly panic.
"This is an administrative mistake!" Grant shouted toward the front tables, his voice cracking through the live microphone before an audio technician hastily cut the feed. "Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated! Harrington, look at me—this is a clerical delay, nothing more!"
The senior partners of Harrington weren't looking at him. They were already skimming the red-flagged audit briefs Liam had handed them, their expressions hardening from confusion into disgust.
"You tried to funnel thirty-two percent of our underwriting capital through an unregistered offshore proxy?" Marcus Harrington, a man whose family had controlled Wall Street banking for three generations, stood up slowly. He adjusted his jacket, not even looking Grant in the eye. "The merger is dead, Grant. And so is Whitaker Capital’s credit facility with our bank."
Audrey attempted to slip past the banquet tables toward the service hallway, clutching the leather portfolio to her chest.
"Ms. Vale," one of the state investigators called out, stepping into her path and presenting an official badge. "We have a subpoena for all digital devices, external drives, and communications regarding Aegis Holdings. You'll need to remain here."
"I am an independent contractor!" Audrey hissed, her aristocratic composure unraveling into sharp shrieks. "You have no legal right to touch my personal property!"
"Under the emergency RICO warrant issued by Judge Alvarez two hours ago, we do," the investigator replied without blinking, smoothly taking the portfolio from her numb hands.
Grant rushed down the stage steps, his bow tie crooked, sweat breaking out across his forehead. He barreled straight toward me, his hands reaching out as if he could physically drag me out of the ballroom and erase the last ten minutes.
Liam stepped between us instantly, his broad shoulders blocking Grant's path.
"Take one more step toward my client, Whitaker, and the protective restraining order sitting in the clerk's office goes into effect tonight," Liam warned in a low, lethal baritone.
Grant stopped dead, glaring over Liam’s shoulder at me. His eyes were bloodshot, furious, and terrifyingly desperate.
"Charlotte, you stupid bitch," he snarled under his breath, so low only the three of us could hear. "You think you won something here? You just destroyed our family's fortune! Everything I did was for our legacy! You’ve ruined your own daughter's future!"
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"No, Grant," I said softly, holding his gaze with absolute stillness. "I saved her from waking up in a house built entirely on lies."
I turned on my heel and walked out through the VIP entrance, surrounded by Liam’s security team. Behind me, the flashbulbs continued to light up the ballroom as security escorted Grant Whitaker off his own stage.
