Chapter 8 - The Price of Treason
The fall of Sterling Logistics was swift and absolute.
With the corporate records fully open to my legal team, Vance uncovered systematic tax fraud and offshore money laundering that my father had conducted for over a decade to maintain his high-society lifestyle.
Three weeks after the boardroom coup, the United States Attorney's Office for the Central District of California issued a formal federal indictment against Arthur and Eleanor Sterling.
The trial took place at the Edward R. Roybal Federal Building in downtown Los Angeles.
I sat in the front row of the public gallery, dressed in my dark uniform dress greens, my military medals pinned neatly to my chest. Beside me sat Leo, wearing a tailored navy suit, looking strong, confident, and proud.
Across the aisle sat my family.
My father wore a faded brown prison jumpsuit, his hands cuffed at the waist. My mother sat beside her public defender, wearing a plain cotton dress, her face devoid of any cosmetic polish. Chloe sat alone in the back row, wearing plain clothes, avoided by every former acquaintance in the room.
The federal judge, a stern woman named Justice Rebecca Vance, read the verdict.
"For the counts of felony wire fraud, grand larceny, and illegal trust conversion," Justice Vance declared, her gavel knocking firmly against the wooden bench, "Arthur Sterling is sentenced to seven years in federal prison. Eleanor Sterling, for her active participation in the conversion of trust assets, is sentenced to three years of custodial probation and two thousand hours of mandatory community service."
As the federal marshals stepped up to lead my father away, he stopped near the gallery partition. He looked at me, tears streaming down his hollow cheeks.
"Vivienne..." he whispered, his voice cracking with pitiful regret. "Please... I'm your father..."
I stood up straight, my posture flawless, my leg fully supporting my weight without a single trace of hesitation.
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"You were never a father, Arthur," I said softly, looking him dead in the eye. "You were just a man who thought love was something you could buy, sell, or throw away when it became inconvenient. Enjoy your sentence."
He lowered his head, sobbing as the marshals led him through the heavy metal doors into the holding cells below.
