Chapter 11 - The Police Warrant
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At 6:00 p.m. that evening, the police finally caught up with Ethan.
He was sitting inside a dingy diner near the motel, trying to drink a cheap cup of coffee with shaking hands, when four NYPD detectives walked through the front doors.
“Ethan Vale?” Detective Miller asked, holding up a badge and a signed warrant.
Ethan nearly spilled his coffee. “What is this? My lawyers are handling the civil dispute!”
“This isn't civil, Mr. Vale,” Detective Miller said firmly, pulling Ethan’s arms behind his back. “You are under arrest for felony domestic assault, grand larceny, corporate extortion, and wire fraud.”
“You can’t arrest me!” Ethan screamed, struggling against the cuffs as patrons in the diner pulled out their phones to record the scene. “My wife is framing me! She’s a billionaire! She bought the police!”
“You have the right to remain silent,” the detective recited calmly, pushing Ethan’s head down as they loaded him into the back of a black police cruiser.
The news of Ethan’s arrest hit the evening broadcasts instantly.
Across the city, television screens displayed his mugshot—his hair disheveled, his eyes red and terrified, a far cry from the arrogant man who had stood over me in my kitchen forty-eight hours ago.
Inside the precinct, Ethan was placed in a cold holding cell.
An hour later, his mother was brought in as well, charged as a co-conspirator in the $4.8 million embezzlement scheme.
Beatrice sat on the metal bench across from her son, weeping bitterly.
“This is your fault!” Beatrice hissed at Ethan. “If you hadn't hit her over that stupid coffee, none of this would have happened!”
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“My fault?!” Ethan raged, banging his hand against the bars. “You were the one who told me to put her in her place! You encouraged it!”
They spent the night screaming accusations at each other in the dark cell, their mother-son bond completely shattered by greed and terror.
