Chapter 6 - The Unraveling
Wendy left my office twenty minutes later in absolute hysterics, refusing to use the elevator and instead fleeing down the emergency stairwell like a cornered animal.
By Tuesday afternoon, the federal indictments against Arthur and Chad Vance were officially unsealed.
Elliot and I were sitting in his private office at the university hospital, eating a quiet lunch between his surgical rotations, when the television mounted on the wall flashed to a live news broadcast outside the county courthouse.
Microphones were thrust into the face of a handcuffed Chad Vance as federal marshals frog-marched him toward a waiting van. He looked completely defeated, his designer suit wrinkled, his eyes darting frantically away from the flashing camera bulbs.
Beside him, Arthur Vance was being wheeled out in a medical transport chair, his face covered by a bulky woolen jacket as reporters screamed questions about the millions of dollars in embezzled municipal funds funneled through shell companies.
"End of an era," Elliot murmured, setting his turkey sandwich down on the plate and reaching across the desk to squeeze my hand. "How does watching this make you feel, Clara?"
I watched the screen for a long, quiet moment, feeling the last lingering shadows of my past dissolve into nothingness.
"It doesn't make me feel angry," I answered honestly. "It doesn't even make me feel vindicated. It just feels... quiet. Like background noise finally being switched off."
Elliot smiled, his eyes warm and deeply affectionate. "Good. Because your real life isn't about them anymore. It never was."
My phone buzzed against the polished wood of the desk. I picked it up to find a text message from June:
Emergency update: Nadine Vance just tried to book a table at Le Petit Chateaux for Friday night, and the maitre d' politely informed her that her reservation list status has been permanently revoked due to 'unforeseen structural instability.' I am framing that quote.
I laughed out loud, holding the phone up for Elliot to read.
"Your friend June is a national treasure," Elliot chuckled, shaking his head.
"She’s a menace," I corrected fondly. "And she’s planning a massive dinner party this weekend to celebrate the finalization of my engineering firm's municipal expansion contract."
May you like
Elliot’s smile turned wicked. "Does that mean I have to wear a tie?"
"Only if you want to look half as good as you did on Saturday night," I replied, leaning across the desk to press a quick, loving kiss to his cheek.
