Chapter 7 - The Final AuditWith Richard’s journal in hand, Arthur Vance and his forensic accounting team spent three weeks tearing through international banking records, uncovering decades of hidden fraud committed by Diane and her late husband.
The net began to tighten around Diane Morrison.
Stripped of her wealth, her social standing, and her luxurious Palm Beach mansion, Diane was currently living in a cramped, moldering studio apartment in a rundown suburb of Gary, Indiana—the exact place she had once sneered at when discussing poverty.
On a rainy Friday afternoon, Arthur walked into my office with a final dossier stamped with federal seals.
“It’s over, Ms. Sterling,” Arthur announced, laying the file on my desk. “The federal indictment against Diane Morrison for wire fraud, tax evasion, and corporate embezzlement was officially filed this morning. Warrants have been issued.”
I looked at the photograph attached to the indictment file—Diane looking haggard, old, and broken, her expensive makeup replaced by deep lines of stress and exhaustion.
“Is she facing prison time?” I asked quietly.
“Given the scale of the financial fraud and the laundering of stolen Sterling assets, the federal prosecutor is pushing for a mandatory minimum of twelve years,” Arthur replied matter-of-factly. “No bail. No parole hearings for at least ten.”
I nodded slowly, feeling no joy—only a profound, settling closure.
“And Brendan?”
“He’s still working the night shift at the freight depot,” Arthur sighed. “His girlfriend left him, his friends won't return his calls, and he spends his Sundays sitting outside the estate gates hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Security handles him every time.”
“Leave instructions with the gate guards,” I said, standing up and walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows to watch the rain fall over Chicago. “If he comes near the property again, have him removed permanently. We are done with the past, Arthur.”
“Understood, Ms. Sterling.”
As Arthur turned to leave, my phone buzzed on the desk.
An alert from my private obstetrician’s office.
Appointment confirmed for Tuesday at 10:00 AM.
May you like
I placed my hand gently over my growing stomach, feeling a soft, reassuring kick from my daughter.
The storm was over. The empire was secure. And the rest of our lives was just beginning.
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