Chapter 7 - The Cannibals Turn
By Tuesday evening, the Vale empire had collapsed into a feeding frenzy.
With their corporate assets seized, their stock trading halted, and Eleanor sitting in a holding cell at the Westchester County jail unable to post bail because her personal funds were frozen as proceeds of crime, Adrian and his father were trapped inside the family estate.
The water had been shut off by the local utility due to an unpaid industrial bill linked to Vale Holdings. The lawn was overgrown, reporters were camped outside the gates with long lenses, and the private security staff had walked off the job when their direct deposits bounced.
Inside the dimly lit library, Adrian sat on the floor with a bottle of cheap scotch he had found in the pantry.
His wrist was burning with infection beneath the sloppy bandage.
The front door opened and slammed shut.
Marcus stumbled into the room, his eyes bloodshot, his clothes wrinkled and smelling of sweat and stale cigarettes.
"They're coming for me," Marcus sobbed, dropping to his knees before his father. "Dad, the feds raided the apartment in SoHo! They know about the Curacao accounts! They know Vanessa was using my crypto wallet! They’re charging me with federal money laundering! That’s twenty years, Dad! Twenty years in federal prison!"
Richard Vale didn't move. He sat behind his desk, staring blankly at a foreclosure notice taped to the mahogany wood.
"Where is Vanessa?" Adrian demanded, struggling to stand, leaning against the sofa. "Where is she, Marcus? She’s the one who introduced you to those crypto brokers! She told me she loved me! Where the fuck is she?!"
"She took a plea deal, you idiot!" Marcus screamed at his brother. "She turned state’s evidence three hours ago! She handed over your private emails, the recordings of you planning to fake Anna’s psychiatric records, and every financial transaction from the last two years! She traded you to save her own skin!"
Adrian stared at his brother, his mouth hanging open. "She... she wouldn't. She wore my mother’s ring. She said she wanted to build a family with me."
"She called you a vain, gullible weakling on the FBI record!" Marcus yelled, lunging forward and grabbing Adrian by the lapels of his wrinkled shirt. "You ruined us! You and your sick little ego! You couldn't just let Anna live her life! You had to humiliate her! You had to show off for your cheap mistress! And now we have nothing! *Nothing!*"
The two brothers tumbled to the floor, rolling among the shattered glass and unpaid bills, punching and clawing at each other in pathetic, desperate fury.
Richard Vale didn't even look down at his sons.
He simply reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a pen, and looked at the signature line of the surrender agreement Leo Moretti had left on his desk.
The agreement was simple: *Surrender all remaining personal equity, hand over the deed to the Bedford estate to the Moretti Foundation for Abused Women, and the Moretti family will not pursue criminal restitution claims against Richard Vale personally.*
He would lose the house. He would lose his cars. He would lose his reputation.
He would spend the rest of his life living in a one-bedroom rental on a meager state pension, watching his sons go to prison.
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With a trembling hand, Richard Vale signed his name.
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