Chapter 13 - The Arrest of the Empire
-13-
The federal agents didn't waste time reading Miranda rights in whispers.
Agent Vance stepped forward, pulling a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his belt. He walked straight past the stunned board members, bypassed Nathan, and stopped directly in front of Celeste, who was still pressed against the wood-paneled wall, trembling with rage and terror.
“Celeste Vance,” Agent Vance said crisply, grabbing her wrist and snapping the first handcuff into place with a sharp click. “You are under arrest for corporate wire fraud, embezzlement, conspiracy to commit murder, and interstate money laundering. You have the right to remain silent—”
“Get your hands off me!” Celeste shrieked, lashing out with her free hand, scratching at the agent’s cheek before two other officers grabbed her arms and hauled her upright. “You can’t do this! I own half this city! Nathan, you coward, say something!”
Nathan didn't look at her. He sat hunched over the mahogany table, his face buried in his hands, staring blankly at the polished wood as his multimillion-dollar empire dissolved into ash around him.
Detective Miller stepped over to Nathan, tapping him firmly on the shoulder.
“Nathan Carver, you’re also coming with us,” Miller said, pulling out a second pair of cuffs. “For corporate fraud, obstruction of justice, and tampering with a federal investigation.”
As the cold steel clicked around Nathan’s wrists, he raised his head slowly. His eyes weren't filled with anger anymore—just a hollow, pathetic emptiness. He looked past the federal agents, locking eyes with Emma for one final second.
“Emma... please,” Nathan whispered, his voice cracking into a pathetic whine. “We were married. We built this together. Drop the charges... let’s talk about this—!”
Emma didn't say a word. She simply turned her back on him, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to look out over the sprawling skyline of Columbus beneath the bright noon sun.
The federal agents hauled Nathan and Celeste out of the boardroom through the double doors, their protests fading down the private hallway until the heavy silence returned to the penthouse.
Only the board members, Detective Miller, Emma, and her father remained in the room.
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One of the senior board members—an elderly man who had served alongside Emma’s grandfather—slowly cleared his throat, walked over to Emma’s father, and extended a trembling hand.
“Welcome back, Arthur,” the old man said quietly. “It appears we have a great deal of corporate restructuring to attend to.”
