Chapter 17 - The Final Audit
Two days after David’s arrest at the logging camp, the federal indictment unsealed against the entire Vance-Vanguard conspiracy hit the front pages of every major West Coast newspaper.
In the grand study of the Tahoe villa, the fireplace crackled with a warm, steady blaze, casting dancing amber lights across the rich oak bookshelves. I sat at my desk, reviewing the final asset liquidation summary compiled by Michael Vance.
The primary Sacramento residence had officially been transferred into my trust’s permanent holding portfolio. The fraudulent equity lines had been invalidated by federal courts, and the stolen survivor funds had been fully recovered, with interest, directly from the frozen liquidation accounts of Marcus Vance’s corporate holdings.
My father, stripped of his assets, his home, and his social standing, was currently residing in a modest assisted-living facility in Reno funded by state welfare programs—completely isolated, abandoned by the high-society associates he had spent a lifetime trying to impress.
Olivia had packed whatever cheap bags she had left and boarded a one-way bus back to her hometown in Oregon, refusing to answer calls from anyone.
Ethan walked into the study carrying two steaming mugs of black coffee, placing one gently on the corner of my desk before leaning against the edge of the bookshelf.
“The federal prosecutor just called,” Ethan said, taking a sip from his mug. “Marcus Vance pled guilty in exchange for a reduced sentence, and your brother’s trial is scheduled for early summer. Barring a miracle, they’re both looking at serious federal prison time.”
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I picked up my coffee cup, watching the dark liquid ripple slightly before taking a slow, measured sip.
“Good,” I said softly. “The ledger is balanced.”
