Chapter 5 - The Cost of Admission
By 3:00 p.m., the DeLuca Development office building was completely surrounded by dark SUVs. The employees had been ordered to leave their computers and exit the building with their hands visible.
Vincent stood by the window of his office, watching his empire evaporate in broad daylight. The phone on his desk was dead. His personal cell phone had been shut off by his legal team to prevent him from making incriminating calls.
Savannah was crying now, real, unscripted tears that ruined her expensive eyeliner. Two federal agents were standing in the doorway of the office, a female agent already holding a pair of handcuffs.
"Savannah Cole?" the agent asked, stepping forward.
"I don't know anything about the construction bids!" Savannah screamed, backing away toward Vincent. "Vincent, tell them! Tell them I’m just a consultant! I don't run the business!"
"Ms. Cole, you are listed as the primary managing director of Vance Holding, which directly authorized the illegal transfers to the Newark facility," the agent said, grabbing Savannah’s wrist with a practiced, metallic click. "You have the right to remain silent."
Vincent didn't move to help her. He didn't even look at her as she was led out of the office, sobbing his name. He was looking at his desk calendar. Today was November 14th. Exactly twelve years ago today, he had stood in a small church in upstate New York, watching Evelyn walk down the aisle toward him, wearing a simple white dress and twenty-four small pearls around her neck.
He remembered what her mother, Ruth, had said to him at the reception. “Evelyn doesn't complain when she's hurt, Vincent. She just calculates the cost.”
He had thought it was a warning about her spending habits. Now, he realized it was a prophecy.
The lead FBI investigator stepped into the office, holding a folder. "Vincent DeLuca? You're under arrest for violation of the RICO act."
Vincent turned around slowly, holding out his wrists. His face had aged ten years in the span of six hours. "Where is she?" he asked the investigator. "Where is my wife?"
The agent snapped the cuffs onto his wrists. "Mrs. DeLuca is currently in a federal safe house completing her deposition under full congressional immunity. She left something for you, though."
May you like
The agent reached into his pocket and dropped a small, white object onto the mahogany desk. It rolled across the polished wood, stopping right next to the broken gold clasp Vincent had brought back from the ballroom the night before.
It was the twenty-fourth pearl.
