Chapter 11 - The Descent into DesperationAcross town, in a sterile, windowless holding room at a midtown Manhattan police precinct where federal investigators were conducting preliminary questioning, Julian Vance sat handcuffed to a metal table.
His bespoke white tuxedo was long gone, replaced by a rumpled grey dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was wild and unkempt, his eyes sunken and bloodshot. The invincible billionaire who had commanded boardrooms and dictated terms to high society was gone, replaced by a desperate, cornered animal.
The heavy steel door swung open, and two federal agents walked in, dropping a thick manila folder onto the metal table with a loud thud. They sat down opposite Julian, their expressions grim and professional.
"Mr. Vance, let's go over the offshore wire transfers again," the lead agent, Agent Miller, said evenly, leaning forward. "We have traced over forty million dollars in un-taxed corporate funds routed through shell companies in the Cayman Islands directly to personal accounts registered under your name and code-named entities. That constitutes wire fraud, tax evasion, and institutional money laundering. Under federal guidelines, you're looking at a minimum of twenty-five years in a federal penitentiary."
Julian let out a harsh, bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. I have political connections in Washington. I have senators on speed dial. This is a witch hunt orchestrated by a disgruntled employee, and my lawyers will—"
"Your lawyers resigned thirty minutes ago, Mr. Vance," Agent Miller interrupted calmly, sliding a document across the table. "Because your accounts are frozen and your retainers bounced. Furthermore, none of your political allies are answering your phone calls anymore. You are radioactive. Everyone is running away from you."
Julian stared at the document, his breath catching in his throat. For the first time, the terrifying reality of his situation penetrated his thick armor of arrogance. He was alone. Completely, utterly alone. No money, no company, no influence, and no protection.
"Where is my wife?" Julian snarled, his voice dropping into a desperate, menacing whisper as he leaned across the table. "Where is Evelyn? And where is my daughter?"
"Your wife filed for divorce yesterday, accompanied by a request for emergency sole custody and a restraining order," Agent Miller replied without missing a beat. "Which, given your violent public behavior and federal indictment, was granted by the family court this morning. You are legally barred from contacting Evelyn or Lily Vance ever again."
A dark, consuming rage erupted inside Julian's chest, burning away whatever sanity he had left. He slammed his handcuffed wrists onto the metal table, rattling the frame. "They are mine! They belong to me! Nobody leaves me! Do you hear me?! NOBODY!"
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The two federal agents didn't even flinch. They simply stood up, picked up their files, and walked toward the door.
"Have fun in pre-trial detention, Mr. Vance," Agent Miller said over his shoulder as he unlocked the heavy steel door. "Your arraignment is tomorrow morning. Don't be late."
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