Chapter 5 - The Snake's Nest
The police officers stood guard as Wendy frantically stuffed her clothes into two designer suitcases, sobbing hysterical tears of anger and panic. She hurled insults at me with every sweater she threw into her bag, accusing me of ruining her life, destroying her social standing, and being a monster.
"You're going to pay for this, Luca!" she spat, zipping her bag shut with a violent tug. "My father is a senior partner at a top law firm in the city! He will destroy you in court! You won't have a single penny left by the time he's done with you!"
"I look forward to meeting your father in court, Wendy," I said, standing by the doorway with my arms crossed. "Please make sure he brings his personal tax records. I took a quick look at his firm's offshore disclosures last night, and I noticed some very interesting accounting overlaps with Julian Reed’s firm."
Wendy gasped, her eyes widening in horror before the officers escorted her out the front door, slamming it behind her.
With Wendy temporarily gone, the house felt strangely quiet, but the battle was far from over.
Arthur sat down with me at the dining table while my mother rested comfortably upstairs after her medical evaluation. The physical doctor had confirmed that her injuries were consistent with blunt force trauma and physical restraint, providing ironclad evidence for the criminal trial.
"We have her pinned on the elder abuse charges and the domestic fraud," Arthur said, laying out a series of legal filings. "But Julian Reed is the brain behind the financial pipeline. He's operating out of a boutique investment firm in downtown Manhattan. If we don't hit him hard right now, he'll liquidate his assets and vanish before the district attorney can secure an arrest warrant."
"Where is Julian right now?" I asked, looking at the tracking data I had pulled from Wendy’s phone.
"He's scheduled to meet with several high-net-worth clients at an exclusive club in Midtown at noon today," Arthur replied. "He thinks the wire transfer from your business account is going through seamlessly at 1:00 PM."
"Then let's crash his lunch," I said, picking up my car keys.
"Luca, let the police handle the arrests," Arthur cautioned.
"The police will handle the handcuffs, Arthur," I replied, a cold smile touching my lips. "I'm going to handle the audit."
Thirty minutes later, I walked into the private dining room of The Sterling Club, an elite private establishment where Manhattan's financial elite gathered for power lunches. Julian Reed sat at a corner table surrounded by three wealthy prospective investors, sipping champagne and boasting about his international portfolio returns.
He looked exactly like the type of predator Wendy attracted: slicked-back hair, a ten-thousand-dollar suit, and an insufferable grin.
I walked straight up to his table, pulling out an empty chair, and sat down uninvited.
Julian frowned, setting his champagne glass down. "Excuse me, pal. This is a private table. Security can show you out if you're lost."
"Julian Reed," I said, my voice projecting clearly across the quiet, dignified dining room. "I'm Luca Mercer. Wendy's husband."
The color vanished from Julian's slick face faster than water poured down a drain. The three investors looked at him, then at me, sensing immediate danger.
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"I think you should leave," Julian stammered, trying to maintain his suave posture, though his hands began to tremble under the tablecloth.
"I will," I said calmly, opening my leather folder and sliding three sheets of paper directly into the center of the table, right next to his caviar appetizer. "Right after your clients read these SEC regulatory flags regarding your shell company, Reed Global Holdings."
