Chapter 6 - The Television Broadcast
Three weeks later, the scandal had completely consumed the city's media landscape. Headlines blared across every major news outlet: *“Corporate Titan Mark Sterling Arrested in Massive Federal Embezzlement Scheme,”* and *“High-Society Scandal: Socialite Vanessa Sterling Abandoned Amid Multi-Million Dollar Fraud Investigation.”*
Mark was currently sitting in a federal holding facility awaiting trial, denied bail due to the high risk of flight. Vanessa had been abandoned by her wealthy friends, her credit cards declined, scrambling to find a lawyer who would take her case without an upfront retainer.
And me? I was sitting comfortably on a plush velvet sofa in a penthouse apartment overlooking the glittering city skyline, a glass of expensive champagne in hand, watching the evening news on a massive wall-mounted flat-screen television.
On the screen, the local anchor was broadcasting a special live segment about the downfall of the city's elite corporate class. Suddenly, the anchor cut to a live remote outside the downtown courthouse where Vanessa was attempting to dodge reporters and cameras.
Vanessa looked a mess. Her hair was unwashed, her designer sunglasses were crooked, and her expensive designer coat was pulled tightly around her as she shoved a microphone away from her face.
"Mrs. Sterling! Is it true your husband has frozen all your assets?" shouted a reporter, shoving a camera right into her face. "Do you have any comment on your brother Eric cutting you out of the family trust?"
Vanessa snapped. Her face twisted into a mask of pure, unhinged fury. She lunged forward, grabbing the reporter’s microphone and screaming directly into the lens.
"You don't know anything! This is all her fault! That miserable, trashy nobody—Sarah! She ruined us! She ruined everything!"
In that split second of total loss of control, the camera captured a bystander—a fed-up security guard standing nearby who had clearly had enough of her screaming. Without warning, the guard swung his arm backward and struck Vanessa squarely across the face on live national television.
*Crack!*
Vanessa stumbled backward, tripping over her own high heels and collapsing hard onto the concrete steps of the courthouse, clutching her cheek while the cameras flashed blindingly in her face.
I sat back on the plush sofa, took a slow sip of my champagne, and smiled softly to myself.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table. I glanced down at the screen. It was a text from an unknown number—the same number that had sent me the initial evidence file weeks ago.
May you like
*Unknown:* "Karma is a dish best served live on national television. Dinner tonight?"
I looked at the message, a slow smile spreading across my face. I picked up the phone, typed my reply, and hit send, ready for whatever chapter of my new life was about to begin.
