Chapter 7 - Served at the Gala
Z
The snow began to fall over Seattle on the second weekend of December, coating the grand entrance of the Fairmont Olympic Hotel in a layer of crisp white. Inside the grand ballroom, the annual Pacific Northwest Real Estate & Financial Gala was in full swing. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, champagne flowed freely, and the city’s elite mingled in tuxedos and evening gowns.
My parents were there.
Despite the FBI search warrant served on his office three days prior, my father had managed to pull strings through high-powered defense attorneys to keep the investigation under wraps for a few extra days. He and Mom were determined to project an image of absolute normalcy and power. They needed to convince potential private investors tonight to give them a massive cash injection to cover their missing funds.
Dad stood near the stage, wearing a tailored black tuxedo, sipping scotch, laughing with several prominent city council members. Mom was by his side, clad in a glittering silver gown, acting as though nothing was wrong.
They thought they had trapped me. They thought that because my name was forged on the R&S Holding Group documents, I would be forced to stay silent and let their attorneys negotiate a deal that shared the blame.
They had no idea what was coming.
The heavy double doors of the ballroom swung open.
I stepped inside. I wasn't wearing my plain, dark-teal dress. I wore a striking, midnight-blue silk gown that fit perfectly, my hair styled in an elegant updo, my chin held high. Beside me walked Marcus Vance and two plainclothes officers from the Financial Crimes Division of the Seattle Police Department, accompanied by a process server holding a thick stack of legal documents.
The ambient chatter in the ballroom slowly quieted as people noticed our entrance. My father’s eyes locked onto mine from across the room. His glass froze inches from his lips. Mom gasped, clutching his arm in sudden panic.
I walked steadily down the center aisle of the ballroom, the click of my heels echoing off the high ceilings. The crowd parted around us.
"Skyla?" Dad stammered as I approached him, trying desperately to keep his voice quiet so the surrounding executives wouldn't hear. "What... what are you doing here? You need to leave right now. We are handling the legal situation with our lawyers—"
"You aren't handling anything, Dad," I said, my voice projecting clearly across the silent circle of onlookers.
The process server stepped forward, stepping directly in front of my father.
"Richard Montgomery?" the server asked briskly.
"Yes, but who are—"
"You are formally served with a civil lawsuit alleging identity theft, forgery, breach of fiduciary duty, and civil fraud," the process server announced loudly, handing a massive folder of legal documents directly into my father's chest.
Gasps echoed through the ballroom. Nearby real estate moguls shifted uncomfortably, staring in shock.
"Are you insane?!" Mom screamed, lunging toward me, her face contorted in rage. "In front of everyone?! You are destroying your father's career!"
"He destroyed his own career the moment he committed bank fraud," I said coldly, glaring back at her without flinching.
The plainclothes police officer stepped up beside my father. "Richard Montgomery, you are also requested for immediate questioning at the Seattle Police Department's Financial Crimes Unit regarding fraudulent loan applications registered under the name of Skyla Montgomery."
"No! This is a mistake!" Dad panicked, dropping his scotch glass. It shattered against the polished marble floor, splashing alcohol over his expensive shoes. "Skyla, tell them! Tell them you authorized those accounts! We are family!"
"Family doesn't frame their daughter for federal financial crimes," I replied, my voice ringing with absolute authority. "I gave you a chance to fix this on Thanksgiving. You chose to try and throw me to the FBI instead. Now, you will face the law."
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As the police officers escorted a pale, trembling Richard Montgomery out of the glittering ballroom in front of the entire business elite of Seattle, Mom fell to her knees, sobbing hysterical tears into her silver dress.
I turned my back on them both and walked out into the snow, completely untethered from their toxic legacy at last.
