Chapter 7 - Betrayal from Within
Agatha lunged toward the stage, her nails flared like talons. "Shut her up! She's lying! She's crazy!"
Before she could reach the steps, Detective Vance—the same police detective who had come to arrest me two nights ago—stepped out from the back of the room, flanked by four federal agents in dark suits.
"Sit down, Mrs. Shields," Vance said sternly, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder.
Agatha froze, her eyes wide with shock. "Vance? What is the meaning of this? I paid your department—"
She stopped mid-sentence, realizing what she had just admitted in front of a hundred influential guests and multiple news cameras.
I looked at Agatha with calm pity. "You claimed I stole three million dollars two days ago, Agatha. But yesterday, with the help of federal forensic accountants, we uncovered the truth. That three million dollars wasn't stolen from the charity. It was transferred from an offshore account in the Cayman Islands directly into your personal account to pay off the mechanic who tampered with David's car."
Gasps rippled through the audience.
"That's a lie! David's death was an accident!" Agatha screamed, her voice cracking into a high-pitched shriek.
"We have the mechanic in custody, Agatha," Detective Vance announced calmly. "He confessed three hours ago. He gave us the recorded phone calls and the bank transfer receipts signed by your personal digital key."
The color drained entirely from Agatha's face. She looked around the room, searching for help, but her wealthy friends stepped back, averting their eyes, disgusting looks covering their faces. The very people who had watched her humiliate me days ago were now watching her world crumble.
"You ruined my family!" Agatha spat at me, her eyes wild. "David was my son! He belonged to me!"
"David was a good man who died trying to stop your greed," I said softly into the microphone. "And my daughters will grow up knowing that their father stood for the truth."
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"Agatha Shields, you are under arrest for grand larceny, wire fraud, bribery, and first-degree murder in the death of David Shields," Federal Agent Miller declared, pulling out pair of silver handcuffs.
As the steel cuffs clicked around Agatha's wrists, she began to wail—a desperate, pitiful sound that echoed through the grand ballroom. She was dragged past the very guests she had sought to impress, her reign of terror brought to a swift, humiliating end.
