Chapter 6 - Desperation and Threats
The fallout was immediate and catastrophic.
Before midnight, Sterling Ridge issued a formal press release announcing the immediate termination of both David Carter and Rebecca Hastings, citing "gross violations of corporate ethics and suspected financial malfeasance." Charles Hastings, desperate to protect the family firm from federal indictments, handed over every internal email, ledger, and access log related to the pair directly to the Fulton County District Attorney.
By noon the next day, David was a pariah. His corporate credit cards were declined. His bank accounts were frozen solid by Judge Miller’s order.
I was staying at Danielle’s apartment, surrounded by the three boxes of Isabella’s nursery items we had managed to rescue. Marcus Hill had stationed a private security officer outside the building’s entrance—an old colleague from his days on the force—giving me the first real sense of safety I had felt in days.
My phone rang. It was an unknown number.
I hesitated, looking at Danielle, who nodded encouragingly. I hit speakerphone.
“Claire.”
It was David. His voice was hoarse, ragged, slurred around the edges by what sounded like heavy drinking.
“You think you’re smart, don't you?” he chuckled, a low, humorless sound that sent chills down my arms. “You think that old fossil Evelyn Vance is going to save you?”
“Don't call this number again, David,” I said evenly. “You are violating the temporary restraining order. Every word you say is being recorded.”
“Record it!” he screamed into the receiver, the volume blowing out the tiny speaker. “Record every damn syllable! You took everything from me! My career, my reputation, my money—it’s all gone! Rebecca won’t even answer my calls! Her family’s lawyers served me with a cross-complaint this morning!”
“You did this to yourself,” I told him. “You made your choices at the lake.”
“You listen to me, you bitch,” he hissed, his tone dropping into a venomous, quiet register that made my stomach twist into knots. “I still have parental rights. The minute that baby is born, I am filing for full custody. I will drag you through every psychological evaluation the state of Georgia offers. I will claim you are postpartum, unstable, unfit. I will take Isabella from your arms, and you will spend the rest of your life paying me support.”
“You will never touch her,” I said through clenched teeth.
“We’ll see about that,” he whispered. “You have an ultrasound scheduled for Thursday morning at the Northside Women’s Clinic. Don't think I don't know your schedule, Claire. See you in the waiting room.”
The line went dead.
My knees buckled. Danielle lunged forward, catching me beneath the arms and helping me sink onto the living room sofa.
“He knows about the appointment,” I whispered, panic rising like bile in my throat. “Danielle, he’s watching the medical portal.”
“He won’t get near you,” Danielle said firmly, her hands gripping my shoulders. “We will reschedule. We’ll change clinics. We’ll change your name on the patient intake—”
The front door opened. Marcus Hill walked in, holding a brown paper grocery bag filled with fresh fruit and groceries. He took one look at our faces and set the bag down on the counter.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice instantly dropping into tactical focus.
“David called,” I said, wiping a cold bead of sweat from my brow. “He’s threatening custody. He knows about my ultrasound on Thursday.”
Marcus didn't blink. He pulled his phone from his belt.
“He’s not going to make that ultrasound,” Marcus said calmly.
I looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“The forensic team finished their work on the Lake Juniper pilings two hours ago,” Marcus said, crossing his arms. “They found the saw blade David used to cut the joists. He threw it into twenty feet of water off the end of the marina, but our divers had metal detectors. And guess what he didn't do?”
Danielle leaned forward. “What?”
“He didn't wipe the serial number off the Milwaukee high-torque blade,” Marcus said with a cold, tight smile. “And the park’s hardware store down the road had the purchase receipt on their digital register from Saturday afternoon. Paid for with David Carter’s personal Visa card.”
A long, ragged exhale escaped my lungs.
May you like
“The district attorney just signed the felony warrant,” Marcus concluded. “Attempted murder in the first degree. We aren't fighting him in family court anymore, Claire. We’re putting him in a cage.”
***
