Chapter 7 - The Audit of Ruin-7
As if on cue, the grand clock inside the Vizcaya Museum tower struck midnight, its deep, metallic chimes echoing across Biscayne Bay.
Grant’s phone began to vibrate violently inside his tuxedo pocket. Then it vibrated again. And again. A continuous, relentless barrage of notifications lit up the screen through his fabric.
Trembling, Grant pulled the device from his pocket.
The screen displayed a terrifying cascade of crimson alerts from his primary banking applications:
ALERT: HOLLOWAY MERIDIAN OPERATING ACCOUNT - FROZEN BY JUDICIAL ORDER.
ALERT: PALM BEACH ESTATES CREDIT LINE - TERMINATED.
ALERT: PERSONAL ASSET HOLDINGS - REPOSSESSION NOTICE ISSUED.
ALERT: CORPORATE CREDIT CARD TERMINATION - BALANCE DUE IMMEDIATELY.
"No, no, no..." Grant whimpered, his thumb frantically tapping the glass, trying to open his private offshore account app—the secret account in the Cayman Islands where he had quietly transferred three million dollars over the past two years with Delaney's help.
A fresh notification popped up on the screen:
CAYMAN ATLANTIC BANK: ACCOUNT #8841-NET - QUARANTINED BY FEDERAL FORENSIC AUDIT.
Grant raised his head, looking up at Seraphina in absolute horror. "My... my private accounts... how did you access my private accounts?"
"You left your personal laptop on the study desk every Tuesday night while you were out with Delaney," Seraphina said flatly. "Did you truly believe the woman who holds a master’s degree in financial forensics from Oxford couldn't bypass a four-digit password?"
From the back of the glass atrium, the heavy double doors opened once more.
This time, it was not security guards or journalists who entered. Four sharp-looking men and women in dark grey suits walked down the center aisle, accompanied by two uniformed officers from the United States Marshals Service and an investigator from the Securities and Exchange Commission.
The lead investigator, a stern woman named Agent Miller, walked directly up to the stage area, pulling an official federal document from her leather binder.
"Grant Holloway?" Agent Miller asked, her voice ringing with cold, bureaucratic authority.
Grant stumbled back, his eyes darting frantically toward Delaney, who was currently trying to slip behind a group of investors near the bar exit. "Yes... yes, I'm Grant Holloway..."
"I am Agent Miller with the SEC Financial Crimes Task Force," she announced, holding up the document. "We have received a comprehensive forensic report from Bellamy Holdings regarding systematic wire fraud, corporate tax evasion, and the illegal laundering of municipal development funds through shell entities managed by you and Miss Delaney Cross."
Upon hearing her name, Delaney froze near the exit. Two plainclothes officers immediately stepped into her path, blocking the doors.
"Delaney Cross?" the officer asked. "You are being detained for questioning regarding corporate embezzlement and federal tax fraud."
"Grant!" Delaney shrieked, her artificial composure vanishing instantly into a wave of ugly, screaming panic. "Do something! You told me you had total control of the finances! You told me your wife was an idiot who didn't know anything!"
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Grant couldn't answer her. He couldn't even stand straight. He looked at his mother and sister, who were currently being approached by process servers handing them formal eviction notices for the Palm Beach estate.
"Grant Holloway," Agent Miller said, motioning for the marshals to step forward. "You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent."
