Chapter 7 - Vivian's Last Strike
I scrambled for the remote, switching the television over to the local Chicago news affiliate.
There, standing behind a battery of microphones outside the historic Drake Hotel, was Vivian Bradford. She had traded her couture pastel suits for an austere, dark navy ensemble that made her look like a grieving, righteous matriarch. Beside her stood a man I recognized instantly: Harold Sterling, one of the most corrupt, aggressive celebrity custody attorneys in the country.
“...as a grandmother, my duty is not to corporate balance sheets, but to the innocent children who have been used as human bargaining chips,” Vivian was saying, dabbing a handkerchief at the corner of her dry eyes.
The cameras flashed furiously.
“My son Garrett has been subjected to severe emotional manipulation following the tragic dissolution of his engagement,” Sterling took over the microphone, his booming voice designed for soundbites. “We have officially filed an emergency petition in Cook County Family Court for temporary physical custody and protective guardianship of the three minor children: Leo, Owen, and Wyatt Bradford.”
Garrett’s phone nearly cracked under the pressure of his grip.
“On what grounds?” Garrett snarled into the phone at Richard. “On what possible grounds can she file for custody of children she actively hid?”
“Maternal unfitness and parental alienation,” Richard replied grimly over the line. “Sterling is alleging that Elena intentionally concealed the children in a low-income environment, denied them their constitutional right to their father and their legitimate trust distributions, and used them in a calculated extortion scheme on your wedding day. They’re claiming that the sudden upheaval, combined with Elena’s unstable financial history over the last five years, makes her unfit, and that Garrett is suffering from acute psychological coercion.”
“I’ll kill her,” Garrett breathed, the blood completely draining from his face, replaced by a pure, murderous rage. “I will personally end her.”
“Garrett, stop!” I said, grabbing his forearm. My heart was pounding like a war drum in my chest. “That’s what she wants! She wants you to lose control! She wants a public altercation so Sterling can tell the judge you’re erratic and dangerous!”
Just then, the front doorbell chimed.
Garrett moved instantly, pushing me behind him as he marched to the front door, yanking it open with violent force.
Standing on the porch was not a process server, nor was it the press.
It was Charlotte Dane.
She wore dark sunglasses, a beige trench coat, and flat designer boots. Behind her stood two burly private security guards who immediately positioned themselves on the perimeter of my front lawn, scanning the quiet street.
Charlotte pulled off her sunglasses, looking at Garrett, then past him to me.
“May I come in?” she asked calmly. “We have work to do.”
Garrett blinked in total disorientation. “Charlotte? What are you doing here?”
“I have no interest in being collateral damage in Vivian Bradford’s psychotic crusade,” Charlotte said, walking past him into the foyer without waiting for an invitation. She set a heavy, metallic briefcase on my dining room table and snapped the latches open.
I followed her, my protective instincts flaring. “Charlotte, if this is about the wedding—”
“Elena,” Charlotte interrupted, turning to me with an expression of absolute, steely sincerity. “The wedding was a transaction arranged by our families. I respected Garrett, but I wasn't in love with him, and he certainly wasn't in love with me—a fact that became blindingly obvious the second you walked through that driveway in that green dress.”
She turned the briefcase around, revealing stacks of audio recording devices, transcripts, and financial ledgers.
“What is this?” Garrett asked, stepping closer.
“My father didn't build Dane Properties by being naive,” Charlotte explained, crossing her arms. “For the last six months, while Vivian was pushing this marriage, my family had private intelligence running deep background checks on every single member of the Bradford inner circle. We knew Vivian was intercepting communications. We knew about the payments to Dr. Harrison. And three months ago, Vivian approached me privately.”
Charlotte tapped a small digital voice recorder.
“She told me that after the wedding, once the merger was finalized, she had arranged for Garrett to undergo a gradual medical re-evaluation for ‘executive burnout.’ She wanted to systematically transition forty percent of the voting trust to me and her, cutting Garrett out of primary control of his own company.”
Garrett stared at the recorder, his breath turning shallow. “She was planning a coup against me from the start.”
“Vivian doesn't love anyone, Garrett,” Charlotte said bluntly. “Not you, not the company, and certainly not those three little boys. She only loves control. When you took that control away on Tuesday, she decided to burn the entire house down with you inside it. She’s using Sterling to take the boys not because she wants them, but because she knows taking them will completely destroy you and Elena.”
Charlotte slid the recorder toward me.
May you like
“Take this to family court tomorrow morning,” Charlotte said. “Along with my sworn deposition as an hostile witness against her. Let’s put that woman in a cage where she belongs.”
***
