Chapter 12 - THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF VANCE
Three days later. Manhattan Federal Courthouse.
The press conference on the courthouse steps was a wall of blinding camera flashes, shouting journalists, and satellite broadcast vans lining the street.
Stepping down the marble steps was Jonathan Vance—the legendary seventy-year-old titan of Wall Street. He looked broken, his shoulders stooped inside his ten-thousand-dollar suit, his face pale and sunken as federal agents escorted him toward a waiting dark sedan.
Behind him, Marcus Thorne stepped up to the podium of microphones.
"Today," Thorne announced to the gathered media, "the Southern District of New York has unsealed a forty-eight-count indictment against Jonathan Vance, Victoria Vance, and Dr. Richard Harrison for systematic human trafficking, medical fraud, and corporate asset laundering."
A chorus of rapid camera shutters clicked like locusts.
"All assets associated with the Vance conglomerate," Thorne continued, "have been frozen or transferred into the Vance-Sterling Trust under the sole stewardship of Eleanor Vance."
Standing near the top of the marble steps, away from the glare of the cameras, was Eleanor.
She wore a simple, elegant ivory coat, her hands tucked neatly into her pockets. Standing beside her was Leo, holding her hand, watching the sea of reporters with quiet curiosity.
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A news helicopter hovered high overhead, its rotors echoing off the surrounding glass skyscrapers.
Eleanor looked down at the street where Jonathan Vance was being placed into the back of the federal vehicle. She felt no triumph. She felt no joy in his downfall. She felt only the quiet, heavy realization that the nightmare that had begun in a cold hospital room seven years ago had finally reached its end.
