Chapter 5 - The Corporate Web
Three days after the disastrous gender-reveal party, Daniel and I sat across from Detective Miller in a sterile, windowless conference room at the Raleigh Police Department. The air smelled of old paper and stale coffee.
Detective Miller slid a thick manila folder across the metal table.
“Your sister wasn’t acting alone, Mr. Sterling,” the detective said, leaning back in his squeaky swivel chair. “We searched her phone and her laptop after obtaining a warrant. It turns out Brooke had a very active business relationship that she forgot to mention on her Etsy page.”
My stomach tightened. I placed a protective hand over my seven-month pregnant belly. “Who was she working with, Detective?”
“Apex Architectural Group,” Detective Miller said, sliding a printed email chain across the table. “Specifically, your husband’s former business partner, Marcus Vance—no relation to the officer—who was forced out of Sterling & Associates two years ago after embezzling funds.”
Daniel snatched the papers, his eyes scanning the lines of text so fast his pupils seemed to vibrate. I leaned over his shoulder to read.
From: Marcus Vance [email protected] To: Brooke Miller [email protected] Subject: Re: The Museum Bid Brooke, just make sure you get clear, high-res shots of the load-bearing calculations on pages 12 and 14. Once I have those, our engineering team can undercut Daniel’s bid by exactly three percent. The ten thousand dollar wire transfer will hit your offshore crypto wallet the second the files are verified. Don’t mess this up.
“Ten thousand dollars,” I whispered, staring at the screen in horror. “She sold out her own brother-in-law—and her family—for pocket change.”
“It’s worse than that,” Daniel said, his voice cold as ice. He looked up at the detective. “Marcus Vance didn’t just want to undercut my bid. Those specific structural calculations he asked for—if modified by even half a percent by an incompetent firm like Apex—would cause the museum’s central atrium roof to fail under heavy snow loads. Marcus knew that. He was trying to sabotage my firm’s reputation permanently.”
Detective Miller nodded grimly. “That elevates the charges from standard industrial theft to reckless endangerment of public safety. Warrants are already out for Marcus Vance and two of his senior associates at Apex. As for your sister, she’s currently sitting in the Wake County Detention Center without bail because her bank records show she received a preliminary five-thousand-dollar wire from an anonymous shell company yesterday morning.”
“Can she make bail?” I asked, a strange mix of pity and fury churning inside me.
“Not with the federal holds we’re slapping on her accounts this afternoon,” Detective Miller replied. “She’s looking at ten to fifteen years minimum.”
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When we walked out of the precinct into the humid North Carolina afternoon, my mother was waiting by our car. She looked ten years older than she had three days ago.
“Claire,” Mother choked out, rushing toward us with her hands clasped in desperation. “You have to drop the charges. Please. Think of your niece and nephew. Think of Mason! He’s a child! If his mother goes to prison, his entire life is ruined!”
