Chapter 10 - Blood on the Wiped DriveBy 2:00 PM, the grand dining hall had been cleared and the estate had entered a state of complete administrative transformation.
Assistant United States Attorney Marcus Vance arrived at the compound with thirty federal marshals, formally serving emergency seizure warrants on all Vance commercial assets.
With the reconstructed video files from the server drive, Julian Vance’s signed confession, and the physical evidence recovered from The Valkyrie, the Department of Justice seized ninety million dollars in commercial dock leases, thirty-two transport vessels, and five private banking facilities.
Arthur Vance was remanded to maximum security at the Metropolitan Correctional Center in downtown Chicago, facing consecutive life terms for first-degree murder, interstate racketeering, and maritime terrorism.
Camilla Vance was transferred to the federal women’s correctional facility in Danbury, Connecticut, denied bail on felony conspiracy, grand larceny, and corporate extortion charges carrying a mandatory minimum sentence of thirty-five years.
Her designer wardrobes, her penthouse on Michigan Avenue, and her offshore accounts were completely liquidated by federal court decree, with seventy-five percent of the recovered capital transferred directly into the newly chartered Maya and Leo Vance Health Endowment.
Meanwhile, at the Chicago compound, Mrs. Carter and the senior household staff were systematically clearing every trace of Camilla’s presence.
Her imported linens, her French perfumes, and her luxury vanity sets were boxed and donated to municipal shelters across the South Side.
The master bedroom on the second floor was completely refurbished with airy cream linen curtains, fresh bouquets of white hydrangeas, and soft wool rugs that let the winter sunlight flood every corner.
I sat in the master library on the second floor, resting on the velvet chaise lounge, my cast propped up on a silk cushion.
Beside me on the low table sat a fresh pot of herbal tea and a plate of warm lemon shortbread that Mrs. Carter had baked with a beaming smile.
The double mahogany doors swung open.
Matteo walked in.
He had removed his tuxedo jacket and tie, wearing an open-collared white dress shirt and dark trousers, looking relaxed, powerful, and breathtakingly handsome.
He walked straight to where I was sitting, dropping down onto one knee on the Persian rug beside the lounge.
He reached out, his large, warm hand gently taking my uninjured fingers into his own.
“How does the hand feel, Maya?” he asked softly, his gray eyes searching mine with an ocean of protective tenderness.
“It doesn't hurt anymore, Matteo,” I whispered, a radiant smile touching my lips. “Dr. Vance said the bones are setting perfectly. I’ll have ninety percent mobility back in three weeks.”
Matteo leaned forward, his thumb gently stroking my cheekbone.
“Your brother Leo called from Northwestern ten minutes ago,” he murmured, his deep baritone rumbling with joy. “He completed his first clinical assessment. He asked if he could visit the estate gardens this weekend.”
Tears of pure happiness welled in my eyes.
May you like
“He can walk through the rose garden, Matteo. He’s dreamed of seeing the lake his entire life.”
“This lake belongs to him now, Maya,” Matteo said softly. “Just as it belongs to you.”
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