CELESTE POV
The email arrived at 9:47 AM on a Tuesday, and by 9:48, my life was over.
"Celeste Armitage, you're under investigation for embezzlement of company funds totaling eight million dollars."
I stared at my computer screen, certain this was some kind of sick joke. The words didn't make sense. They couldn't be real.
"Ma'am, we need you to come with us."
I looked up to find two police officers standing in my office entry. Behind them, my stepmother Diane and my stepsister Miranda watched with looks that made my stomach drop. They weren't shocked. They weren't confused.
They were happy.
"There's been a mistake," I said, standing so fast my chair rolled backward and crashed into the wall. "I would never steal from my own father's company. I'm the vice president. I built half our client ties. I—"
"Save it for your lawyer," the older cop said, moving toward my desk. "We have evidence of wire transfers to offshore accounts under your name. Forged fingerprints. Falsified records going back eighteen months."
"That's impossible!" My voice cracked, fear clawing up my throat. "Dad would know. He signs off on every big transaction. Where is he? I need to talk to him right now."
The officers exchanged looks. The younger one looked almost sorry.
"Your father is currently unavailable for comment."
Something cold slithered down my spine. "What does that mean? Where's my father?"
Diane stepped forward, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue that wasn't even damp. She'd married my dad five years ago, right after my mother died. I'd tried to be friendly, tried to give her a chance. Now her perfectly made-up face showed nothing but fake worry.
"Oh, Celeste. Your poor father is crushed. When he learned what you'd done, the betrayal nearly killed him. He's at home, too sad to face you."
"You're lying." But my hands were shaking. Dad always answered when I called. Always. I grabbed my phone and called his number.
It went straight to voicemail.
I tried again. And again.
Nothing.
"He's blocked your number, sweetheart," Miranda said, studying her manicured nails. She was twenty-two, three years younger than me, and had hated me since the day her mother married my father. "Can you blame him? His own daughter, taking from him like a common criminal."
"I didn't steal anything!" I shouted, and both cops moved closer. "This is crazy. I want to see the proof. I want to see these claimed transfers."
The older cop pulled out a tablet and turned it toward me. I scanned the screen, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst through my chest.
There were moves. Dozens of them. All approved with my signature, my employee code, my security clearance. Money flowing out of Armitage Pharmaceuticals into accounts I'd never heard of, in places I'd never visited.
"That's not my signature," I whispered, but even I could hear how weak it sounded. It looked exactly like my name. Perfect. Identical.
"We also have testimony," the younger officer said quietly, "from workers who say you've been acting strangely for months. Coming in early, staying late, accessing things you didn't need. Your stepmother and stepsister have provided comments as well."
I looked at Diane and Miranda, really looked at them, and suddenly everything clicked into place with terrible clarity.
They'd planned this.
Every late night I'd spent working on valid projects—they'd twisted it into suspicious behavior. Every normal business transaction—they'd somehow forged it into proof of theft. They'd been making this case against me for months, maybe longer, and I'd been too busy actually running the company to notice.
"Why?" The word came out broken, desperate. "Why would you do this?"
Diane's fake sympathy vanished, replaced by something cold and victorious. "Because your father was never going to leave us anything while you were around. His precious perfect daughter, following in his path. But now? You're going to jail, Celeste. And we're going to have everything."
The room tilted. I grabbed the edge of my desk to stay standing.
"Dad won't believe this. When I talk to him—"
"You're not going to talk to him," Miranda interrupted, her voice sharp with pleasure. "We made sure of that. He thinks you're a thief. He thinks you betrayed him. And by the time you get anywhere near him, if you ever do, the company won't even be his anymore."
"What are you talking about?"
The older cop touched my elbow. "Ma'am, we really need to go now."
"Wait. Please, just—" I pulled away from him, my mind racing. "What do you mean the company won't be his? What have you done?"
Diane checked her watch, a move so casual it felt like a slap. "Right about now, your father should be signing the emergency sale papers. Armitage Pharmaceuticals is being acquired by a larger company. The board voted this morning—unanimous decision, given the financial mess. Your father gets a small settlement, enough to retire easily. And you, my dear, get nothing but a prison cell."
The floor dropped out from under me.
Everything we'd built. Three generations of my family's work. Gone.
"Who?" I asked. "Who's buying the company?"
But Diane just smiled, cold and successful, and said nothing.
The cops were moving me toward the door. I fought them, not caring how it looked, desperate for answers.
"Who's taking over? Tell me!"
My phone buzzed once in my hand—a news alert. I got to glance at the screen before the officer took it from me.
BREAKING: Armitage Pharmaceuticals Acquired by Morelli Industries in Emergency Sale
The name meant nothing to me then.
Later, I'd learn it meant everything.
Later, I'd learn that Dante Morelli didn't just take companies—he ruined them. Stripped them for parts. Erased family legacies like they never happened.
But in that moment, being dragged out of my office past coworkers who wouldn't meet my eyes, I only knew one thing with total certainty: My father would never believe I was a thief.
He couldn't.
Because if he did, I'd already lost everything that mattered.
The elevator doors closed on Diane's pleased smile, and I didn't know yet that I was wrong.
About everything.