Chapter 18 - FALSE VICTORY
Mason was not arrested that day.
That surprised everyone.
His attorneys negotiated.
Investigators gathered evidence.
Financial cases moved more slowly than headlines.
Vivian, however, entered a plea on the assault charge.
She accepted responsibility.
No theatrical excuse.
No claim Natalie had fallen.
In exchange for cooperation on the broader investigation, prosecutors agreed to recommend a sentence focused on probation, community service, required counseling, and restrictions subject to judicial approval.
Before entering court, Vivian asked to speak with Natalie.
Natalie almost refused.
Then agreed to five minutes.
Vivian looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
Natalie waited.
“I know that sentence is cheap.”
“Yes.”
Vivian nodded.
“I hated you because Mason needed me to.”
Natalie frowned.
“He constantly compared us.”
“Of course he did.”
“He said you were boring.”
Natalie almost smiled.
“He told me you were exciting.”
Vivian’s face tightened.
“He told you about me?”
“Not directly.”
Natalie looked at her.
“He made sure I knew enough to be hurt.”
Vivian finally understood.
Mason had manipulated both women differently.
One with contempt.
One with fantasy.
Neither had been loved well.
Natalie stood.
“I hope you become someone who never does this again.”
Vivian’s eyes filled.
“Will you ever forgive me?”
Natalie considered the question.
“I don’t know.”
Then added:
“But I’m not going to spend my life hating you.”
She left.
That afternoon the board announced the company had secured revised lender agreements.
Payroll protected.
Projects stabilized.
Mason suspended indefinitely.
It looked like victory.
Then at 4:38 p.m., Peter called.
“Mason liquidated three personal accounts.”
“So?”
“Forty-one million dollars.”
Natalie stopped.
“Where did it go?”
“Offshore.”
“Can he do that?”
“Some of it appears personal.”
“And the rest?”
“We’re investigating.”
Then Rachel called.
“Mason missed his court check-in.”
Natalie’s pulse accelerated.
“Where is he?”
“Nobody knows.”
A third call came.
Security at Belle Meade.
Mason had left two hours earlier.
His passport was gone.
Natalie placed a hand over her stomach.
“Track the corporate aircraft.”
Peter answered immediately.
“It’s grounded.”
“Private charter?”
“Checking.”
Ten minutes later they found it.
A jet scheduled from Nashville to Nassau.
Departure in forty-five minutes.
Benjamin wanted Natalie nowhere near the airport.
She agreed.
This was not a movie.
She was pregnant.
Law enforcement could handle an airport.
Twenty-eight minutes later, federal agents boarded the aircraft before departure.
Mason Whitaker was taken off the plane.
No handcuffed spectacle for cameras.
No dramatic chase.
Just a wealthy man in a charcoal coat walking down a narrow staircase with two agents beside him.
May you like
His downfall was quieter than his arrogance had ever been.
And somehow that made it worse.
