Chapter 13 - Cutting the Cake
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Suddenly, the loud sound of flashing red and blue lights illuminated the high brick walls surrounding the Whitmore estate.
Sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer with every passing second. Four black SUVs turned into the long gated driveway of the estate, their tires crunching heavily over the gravel.
Daniel turned toward the lights, his eyes widening in horror. "They're here... the feds are actually here."
"They have a warrant for your father's arrest, Daniel," I said quietly, stepping toward the main entrance of the house. "And for yours."
"Maya, no! Help me! Talk to Sterling, talk to the prosecutors!" Daniel pleaded, reaching for my hand. "Tell them I didn't know!"
I pulled my hand back, refusing to let his skin touch mine.
"You signed the shell company documents three months ago, Daniel," I reminded him. "You were twenty-six years old, fully aware, and greedy. You made your choice."
We walked back into the ballroom. The room was almost entirely empty now. The tables were littered with half-eaten gourmet meals and abandoned silk napkins.
At the center of the room stood the massive six-tier wedding cake, completely untouched.
I walked over to the cake table, picked up the long, silver cake knife, and drove it deep into the center of the gold-dusted top tier. I cut a thick slice, pulled it out with my fingers, and took a bite.
May you like
"It's chocolate," I remarked to my father, who was standing beside me. "Eleanor told everyone it was vanilla almond because chocolate was 'too vulgar'."
My father let out a soft, genuine laugh—the first real laugh I had heard from him in five years. "It tastes pretty good to me, baby."
