Chapter 10 - Scorched Earth
Within twenty-four hours, the name *Vance* had become toxic across the entire eastern seaboard.
The front page of the *Wall Street Journal* displayed Julian’s mugshot under the headline: *VANCE DYNASTY IMPLODES UNDER FRAUD AND CONSPIRACY INDICTMENTS.* Every major news network replayed the footage of Eleanor Vance being escorted out of the courthouse in handcuffs, her face shielded by an expensive wool coat that could no longer hide her shame.
Sitting in the penthouse suite of the high-security residential tower Marcus had secured for us, I watched the television screen on mute. Arthur was asleep in his bassinet beside the sofa, his tiny fist curled peacefully against his cheek. For the first time since the day Julian handed me divorce papers while I was hooked to an IV line, the air felt clean.
Chloe walked into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea. She handed one to me and collapsed into the armchair opposite with an exhausted, triumphant sigh.
"The board of directors held an emergency session at midnight," Chloe said, blowing gently across her mug. "Julian has been officially stripped of his CEO title. Eleanor’s voting rights have been suspended by the interim committee. They’re calling it total corporate reorganization."
"And the criminal charges?" I asked.
"Bail was set at five million each," Chloe replied. "Eleanor managed to post it by mortgaging the family estate in the Hamptons through a private lender. Julian posted bail using his remaining liquid reserves. They’re out on house arrest, wearing ankle monitors, awaiting trial."
I looked out the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows. The city skyline sparkled beneath the twilight sky, vast and indifferent to the fall of kings. "They won't just sit quietly, Chloe. Eleanor has spent fifty years controlling this city. She won't accept being destroyed by a woman she considered disposable."
The heavy oak door of the penthouse opened, and Marcus stepped inside. He had shed his suit jacket, wearing a charcoal wool sweater, but his eyes carried the sharp, hyper-vigilant edge of a man who knew the war was far from over.
"You're right, Clara," Marcus said, closing the door behind him and locking the triple-bolt deadbolt. "They aren't sitting quietly."
I sat up straight, my heart fluttering with sudden unease. "What happened?"
Marcus pulled a manila envelope from under his arm and laid it on the glass coffee table between us. Inside were surveillance photographs taken within the last twelve hours.
"Our security team spotted three separate tail vehicles following Chloe from the courthouse," Marcus explained, pointing to a silver sedan with tinted windows. "And two hours ago, someone attempted to access Arthur's medical records at the specialized pediatric clinic in Manhattan. The IP address came from a burner phone registered in Queens."
"Julian?" I asked, cold anger flaring in my chest.
"Worse," Marcus said gravely. "Julian is an idiot, but Eleanor still has connections to the old underworld of private banking and private intelligence. She’s looking for leverage. She knows that if she goes to trial with Victoria's recordings on the record, she will die in federal prison. The only way she survives is if you drop the state-level civil suits and refuse to testify as the primary victim in the federal wire fraud indictment."
"I will never drop the charges," I said, my voice hardening. "Not after what they tried to do to my son."
"Then we have to prepare for the counterstrike," Marcus said, kneeling beside my chair so his eyes were level with mine. His hand covered mine on the armrest, warm, steady, and resolute. "Julian is desperate, Clara. A desperate man with nothing left to lose is far more dangerous than a wealthy man with everything to protect."
Right on cue, my personal phone buzzed against the table.
An unknown number flashed on the screen.
Chloe nodded toward the phone, pulling out an audio recorder to capture the line. I pressed speaker, keeping my voice cold and steady.
"Hello?"
"Did you enjoy your little victory, Clara?" Julian’s voice rasped through the speaker. He sounded unhinged, breathing heavily, the background noise echoing with the clinking of cheap whiskey glasses. "Did you enjoy parading my private life in front of the world?"
"Julian," I said calmly. "You are violating the restraining order. This call is being recorded and transmitted directly to the district attorney."
May you like
"I don't give a damn about the restraining order!" he screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria. "You took my company! You took my money! You turned Victoria against me! But you will never keep my son! Do you hear me? Arthur is a Vance! He belongs to me, and before this is over, I will burn everything you love to the ground to get him back!"
The line went dead.
