A Rich Socialite Shredded Her Dress in Front of Hundreds — Until the King of the Underworld Draped His Coat Around Her

The heavy oak doors of the Ashford Grand Hotel ballroom suddenly swung open with a loud thud.

A team of six federal marshals, led by a stern investigator in a dark trench coat, marched into the room. Their heavy boots clacked against the dark marble floor, cutting through the stunned whispers of the crowd.

Nolan Whitmore froze where he sat on the floor, his face twisted in absolute, pathetic terror.

"Nolan Whitmore," the lead marshal announced loudly, pulling an official federal arrest warrant from his jacket. "You are under arrest for corporate fraud, grand embezzlement, attempt on a witness’s life, and obstruction of justice."

Sloane shrieked, backing away as two agents stepped forward to place heavy steel handcuffs on Nolan’s wrists.

"Nolan! Do something!" Sloane cried out, tears finally ruining her makeup as her perfect socialite facade completely shattered. "Tell them it was your father! Tell them you didn't do it!"

Nolan didn't answer. He wept openly as he was forced to his feet, his hands pinned behind his back in front of every wealthy family he had tried to impress for years.

As the agents led him past Roman and Clara, Nolan looked at the woman whose dress his girlfriend had shredded just moments before.