Chapter 39 - Turning the Tide
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The broadcast went viral within two hours.
Social media networks flooded with clips of Dr. Reynolds's statement and the financial documents released by Pendelton's team. The public outrage against Arthur was immediate and relentless.
By five PM, Arthur was released on a high two-million-dollar bail, but he stepped out of the county jail right into a wall of reporters thrusting microphones into his face.
"Mr. Vance! Did you steal fifty million from your wife?"
"Mr. Vance! Is it true you sent a mercenary to your stepdaughter's house last night?"
Arthur put his hands up, his face pale and contorted with rage as his security guards shoved him into a waiting car.
Inside our command center at Pendelton’s office, Clara laughed as she watched the news coverage.
"His board of directors just called an emergency meeting," Clara reported, pointing at her phone. "They are voting to remove him as Chairman of Vance Enterprises by midnight."
"He's losing his grip," Mr. Pendelton observed, sipping his dark coffee. "When a narcissist loses his status, he becomes incredibly unpredictable. We must be extra vigilant."
Suddenly, my phone rang. It was an unlisted number.
I pressed speakerphone so Clara and Pendelton could hear.
"Sarah," Arthur's voice came through the speaker, raspy and dark, stripped of all former elegance.
"Hello, Arthur," I said calmly. "Enjoying the evening news?"
"You think you're clever, don't you?" Arthur growled. "You think you've won because a few reporters printed your lies?"
"They aren't lies, Arthur. They're bank statements and police records. You're finished."
Silence hung on the line for three agonizing seconds.
"I offer you one final deal," Arthur whispered, his tone dropping into a terrifyingly quiet register. "Meet me alone at the old harbor warehouse at nine PM. Bring the original trust deeds. Do this, and I walk away from both of you forever."
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"And if I refuse?" I asked.
"If you refuse," Arthur hissed, "I will ensure that nobody in your network—not Pendelton, not your lawyer, and certainly not your fragile mother—lives to see tomorrow morning."
