Chapter 7 - The Arrest at the Terminal
The fluorescent lights of the San Diego International Airport terminal flickered coldly against the stainless-steel security barriers as Lucas Linwood was shoved roughly against a pillar by two airport security guards, his designer suitcase lying unzipped on the linoleum floor with clothes spilling out.
"You're making a massive mistake!" Lucas yelled, his face slick with cold sweat, his expensive silk shirt wrinkled from a night spent running through parking garages. "I am a private citizen! I have rights! Call my lawyer—call my mother!"
"Your mother's lawyer is currently trying to explain to a federal judge why your corporate shell accounts match three counts of wire fraud," one of the marshals said coldly, snapping a pair of heavy steel cuffs around Lucas’s wrists with a sharp click.
Lucas let out a ragged, desperate breath, his legs trembling beneath him. Just twenty-four hours ago, he had been sitting in a La Jolla villa, drinking bourbon with his mistress, laughing about how easily his wife could be manipulated. Now, his accounts were frozen, his assets were seized, and his life was unspravelling faster than he could invent lies to patch it together.
As the marshals hauled him toward the exit doors leading to the holding vans outside, a flash of blonde hair caught his eye near the ticketing counter.
Chloe Vance stood frozen beside a pillar, holding her passport and a single duffel bag, watching the arrest unfold with wide, horrified eyes. She had planned to fly out with him to Mexico, using the last of the diverted funds to secure a temporary refuge while Lucas sorted out his "divorce problem."
Lucas locked eyes with her as the marshals dragged him past. "Chloe! Tell them! Tell them the money was joint—tell them—"
Chloe didn't say a word. She turned sharply on her heel, dropping her gaze to the floor, and began walking rapidly toward the opposite exit, desperate to distance herself from the sinking ship before she, too, was dragged down into the abyss.
Lucas watched her vanish into the crowd, the final, brutal realization hitting him with the force of a freight train: nobody was coming to save him. Not his mother, not his mistress, and certainly not the system that had protected his arrogance for thirty years.
Back at Lumina, Camilla stood by her office window, watching the morning news broadcast on her tablet. The local station was running a live aerial shot of the airport terminal, broadcasting the crisp, unmistakable image of Lucas Linwood being led away in handcuffs.
Gavin walked into the office, setting a fresh cup of coffee on the desk. He looked at the screen, then up at Camilla, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face.
"Well, boss," Gavin said quietly. "That's one way to handle a corporate restructuring."
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"It's just the appetizer, Gavin," Camilla replied, her voice steady and cold. "The main course starts when Beatrice realizes her son isn't the only one whose signature is on those fraudulent loan documents."
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