Chapter 9 - Checkmating the Crown
At eight in the morning the next day, Richard Carter walked through the doors of the Manhattan federal courthouse. He was wearing a tailored gray suit, his chin held high, wearing the smug smirk of a man who knows he has the judges and the press right in his pocket. A swarm of reporters lunged at him with microphones and flashing cameras.
"Mr. Carter, what do you have to say about the fraud allegations?" a reporter shouted.
"It has all been a regrettable misunderstanding fueled by petty family grievances," Richard answered with impeccable calm. "My legal team will prove that I've been the victim of a conspiracy orchestrated by my ex-wife and her lover. I have nothing to hide."
At that exact moment, a black limousine pulled up to the curb. The back door swung open, and Emma stepped out, followed by Julian and Victoria. The crowd's murmuring died instantly. Photographers began firing off flashes like a machine gun.
Richard's smile vanished for a millisecond, but he recovered his composure immediately.
"Emma, sweetheart... You shouldn't be out here mixing with this rabble," Richard said, dramatically opening his arms for the cameras.
Emma walked toward him with a steady, purposeful stride, stopping just three feet away. She pulled a manila envelope from inside her jacket.
"Save the performance, Richard," Emma said clearly and concisely, loud enough for all the nearby microphones to catch it. "This envelope contains proof that you forged my signature on the corporate accounts in the Caymans. It also contains the emails where you instructed your wealth managers to transfer the money out of my grandfather's trust right before you filed for bankruptcy."
Richard's face turned the color of wax.
"You don't know what you're doing, you spoiled little brat," he muttered through gritted teeth, as his lawyer tried to step between them. "You're going to destroy the last shred of your family name."
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"That name stopped meaning anything to me the day you tried to make me your scapegoat," Emma shot back. Then, she leaned in and whispered something only he could hear: "I know you know I'm not your daughter. And I know Julian knows. Your empire is over, Richard."
Emma handed the envelope directly to the federal prosecutor who happened to be walking down the courthouse steps at that exact moment.
