Chapter 8 - THE PRESS CONFERENCE
By eight the next morning, reporters surrounded Sterling Development headquarters.
Arthur’s board wanted him to remain silent.
His lawyers wanted seventy-two hours.
His public relations team wanted a written statement.
Arthur ignored all three.
At ten o’clock, he walked onto the stage.
Cameras flashed.
Questions exploded across the room.
“Mr. Sterling, did you authorize the transfers?”
“Are you resigning?”
“Is your wife involved?”
Arthur raised one hand.
Silence slowly spread.
“Yesterday, allegations were published claiming I participated in financial misconduct.”
He paused.
“They are false.”
More cameras flashed.
“But the financial crimes themselves are real.”
The room erupted.
Arthur continued.
“For years, individuals connected to Ashford Residential appear to have used employee identities, shell corporations, false contracts, and fraudulent transactions to move millions of dollars.”
Reporters began shouting.
Arthur raised his voice.
“My company has turned over evidence to federal investigators.”
Charles was watching from his penthouse office.
Arthur knew it.
So he looked directly into the central camera.
“And this morning, two members of the Ashford family agreed to cooperate.”
Victoria stood backstage.
Marcus beside her.
Victoria whispered, “He’s going to hate us.”
Marcus replied, “He already owns our fear.”
Then Arthur said their names.
“Marcus Ashford.”
A pause.
“And Victoria Ashford Sterling.”
The room exploded.
Victoria closed her eyes.
For the first time in her adult life, she had publicly chosen a side against her father.
Arthur continued.
“But there is something else.”
Maya watched from a private room upstairs.
Arthur looked directly at the reporters.
“Some of the people whose identities were used are cleaners.”
“Drivers.”
“Maintenance workers.”
“Immigrant families.”
“People who were selected because powerful individuals believed nobody would listen to them.”
His voice hardened.
“That ends today.”
The press conference lasted twenty-three minutes.
By noon, federal investigators were at Harbor Street.
By one, Charles Ashford’s attorneys released a statement denying everything.
By two, Arthur received a text.
CHARLES ASHFORD REQUESTS PRIVATE MEETING.
Daniel told him not to go.
Rachel told him it was probably a trap.
Arthur agreed with both of them.
Then he went anyway.
Charles chose the Ashford Club.
Private dining room.
No cameras.
Or so Charles believed.
Arthur entered.
Charles was already seated.
“You made a mistake,” Charles said.
Arthur sat opposite him.
“Which one?”
“You humiliated me.”
“No.”
Arthur calmly placed his phone on the table.
“Your children did that when they stopped lying for you.”
Charles’s jaw tightened.
“You think Victoria chose you?”
“I don’t care who she chose.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“She has to answer for what she did too.”
That surprised Charles.
“You’d sacrifice your own wife?”
“I’m not sacrificing anyone.”
“I’m refusing to protect guilty people.”
Charles smiled.
“You sound noble.”
Arthur said nothing.
Charles leaned back.
“You know what separates men like us from everyone else?”
“We’re nothing alike.”
“That’s what men like you always say.”
Charles poured himself water.
“Until you have something worth losing.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
Charles smiled.
“Where is Maya Torres?”
Arthur’s expression changed.
Charles noticed.
“There.”
He smiled wider.
“That’s the look.”
Arthur stood.
Charles said quietly, “Sit down.”
Arthur didn’t.
“Because if you leave this room before hearing my offer, Maya’s mother will spend the next ten years proving she didn’t steal two million dollars.”
Arthur slowly sat again.
Charles pushed a folder across the table.
Inside were documents implicating Rosa Torres.
Perfect documents.
Almost too perfect.
Arthur looked up.
May you like
Charles smiled.
“Now we negotiate.”
