Chapter 4 - The Golden Child's Traps
By Wednesday afternoon, I had assembled a comprehensive forty-page financial file.
I took half a day off work to meet with Marcus Sterling, one of the city's top forensic divorce attorneys, whose office overlooked the riverfront in downtown Chicago.
Marcus flipped through the bank statements, wire transfers, and tax documents I had laid out across his broad glass desk. His eyebrows raised higher with every page he turned.
"Mrs. Bennett," Marcus said, laying the papers down and folding his hands. "This isn't just a divorce case. This is a slam-dunk corporate fraud prosecution."
"I don't just want a divorce, Mr. Sterling," I said, my voice steady and cold. "I want full financial restitution. I want my name cleared from any liability associated with their business, and I want Sophie's non-disclosure agreement declared completely void."
Marcus leaned back in his leather chair, a sharp, admiring smile spreading across his face. "Your husband made a fatal mistake assuming you didn't understand German, but his bigger mistake was underestimating your intelligence as an auditor. Under state law, because he commingled marital assets with his mother's shell company to hide an extramarital affair, you are entitled to at least sixty percent of the marital estate—including this house and his equity in the shipping firm."
"And the criminal charges?" I asked.
"If we present these tax discrepancies to the state Attorney General’s financial crimes division," Marcus explained, "Julian and his sister will be facing grand larceny and tax evasion charges within thirty days."
"Good," I said. "Because on Sunday, it's his father’s sixtieth birthday dinner at their estate. The whole family will be there."
"What are you planning?" Marcus asked, eyeing me with deep interest.
"They love using their native language to mock me while I serve them," I said quietly. "I think it's time I gave the keynote toast."
Before leaving Marcus's office, I made one more call—to a private investigator named Frank, whom Marcus recommended. I hired Frank to place discreet surveillance on Julian’s movements for the next forty-eight hours, specifically catching his visits to Sophie’s apartment and his secret meetings with his mother at the bank.
That evening, Julian came home late. He brought a bouquet of red roses and laid them on the kitchen island.
"For my gorgeous wife," he said, kissing my cheek from behind while I stood at the sink.
"They're beautiful, Julian," I said, looking at the dark red petals. "What's the occasion?"
"Just wanted to show you I love you," he smiled, loosening his necktie. "Mom asked if you could make that special raspberry tart for Dad's birthday on Sunday. She said nobody makes it as well as you do."
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I looked into his eyes—the eyes of a man who spent his afternoon threatening a pregnant woman into signing away her baby, now playing the devoted son and loving husband.
"I'd be happy to make it," I smiled softly. "I'll make sure it's an evening none of you will ever forget."
