Chapter 3 - The Cold War
The conference room of Vance, Cross & Sterling sat on the twenty-second floor of a glass tower overlooking downtown. Sunlight poured across a mahogany table that smelled faintly of lemon polish and expensive leather.
Evelyn Vance sat across from me with half-rim reading glasses balanced on the bridge of her nose. She was fifty-five, had short silver hair, and wore a navy suit tailored to razor precision. For forty minutes, she listened without interrupting while Jenna, Owen, and I presented our evidence.
She listened to Brooke’s voice memo. She inspected the twenty-eight high-resolution photographs of the gouges carved into my car door. She examined the bank statement showing Travis’s unauthorized transfer of $5,120 from our shared savings account into an offshore crypto brokerage.
When the last file was reviewed, Evelyn closed her leather folder with a soft, decisive click.
“Miss Hayes,” Evelyn said, her voice smooth, low, and entirely calm. “Your former partner believes he is playing a casual game of social media humiliation. He does not realize he has stepped directly onto a landmine.”
“Can we force the DNA test through legal channels?” I asked.
“We aren’t going to force it,” Evelyn replied with a slight smile. “We are going to welcome it. In fact, we are going to dictate the terms under court-approved chain of custody. No drugstore kits. No mail-order swab services where he can claim sample tampering. We will file for an emergency expedited non-invasive prenatal paternity test—a simple blood draw from you, a buccal swab from him—processed by a state-certified laboratory under legal seal.”
“Can he refuse once we file?” Jenna asked.
“He could, but that would legally establish a presumption of paternity in this jurisdiction,” Evelyn explained. “More importantly, Miss Hayes, we are not merely defending your honor. We are launching an immediate, multi-pronged civil action.”
She jotted down three distinct items on a legal pad:
1. *Felony property damage & criminal restitution ($4,200 estimated body-shop repair).*
2. *Civil conversion of joint assets ($5,120 plus statutory interest).*
3. *Defamation per se and Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress (IIED) naming Travis Mercer, Brooke Mercer, and Mason Keller as co-defendants.*
“Defamation per se,” Evelyn noted, tapping her pen against the yellow pad, “applies specifically when false statements impute unchastity to a woman or falsely accuse someone of criminal or professional misconduct. They published this lie to at least fifty community members and fifteen coworkers. That damages your professional standing, your personal dignity, and your mental well-being during a third-trimester pregnancy. A jury will despise them.”
“What should I do right now?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Evelyn stated firmly. “Do not reply to his messages. Do not post on Instagram, TikTok, or Facebook. Do not pick up the phone when his mother calls. You are going to move your personal belongings out of his apartment under police escort. Then, you will let me deliver the thunder.”
My phone rang inside my purse right on cue. The caller ID flashed: **Travis**.
Evelyn gestured with her hand. “Put it on speaker. Do not say a single word. Let him leave a voicemail.”
The call rang out, clicking over to voicemail. Ten seconds later, the transcription popped up on the screen, followed by the recorded audio.
Travis’s voice filled the high-rise conference room, smooth, condescending, and laced with manufactured patience.
*“Hey, Claire. Look, I think we both overreacted yesterday. The guys were just having some fun, and you know how Brooke gets when she’s had a seltzer. You embarrassed my mom by storming off like that, but I’m willing to look past it if you come home tonight and talk like adults. I won't even mention the DNA test again if you just admit that you’ve been acting shady lately. Don't throw our family away over a joke, Claire. Call me back before five.”*
Jenna scoffed in disgust. Owen covered his face with his hands, shaking his head in embarrassment for his brother.
Evelyn Vance didn't flinch. She simply picked up her pen, made a small notation at the bottom of her legal pad, and looked at me over her glasses.
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“He just committed his fourth tactical error in forty-eight hours,” Evelyn said quietly. “He attempted to coerce your silence regarding his prior extortion. Miss Hayes, let’s go get your things.”
***
