Chapter 7 - The Desperate Turn
Three days later, the rain was coming down in gray sheets over the city, drumming a relentless rhythm against the tall bay windows of my temporary office at Harbor House.
The national news had picked up the story. The headline *“Philanthropist Tears Down Millionaire Husband on Stage”* had trended across social media platforms, racking up tens of millions of views. Donors from across the country—ordinary women, small business owners, nurses, and teachers—had begun flooding Harbor House with micro-donations. We had raised eight hundred thousand dollars in seventy-two hours from five- and ten-dollar contributions alone.
The world was rallying around our truth.
My phone buzzed on the blotter. An unknown, restricted number.
I tapped speakerphone. “Serena Blake.”
“Serena... please. Don’t hang up.”
The voice was shaky, stripped of all its former venom and vanity. It was Camille.
I remained silent, listening to the muffled sound of traffic and faint sniffling on the other end of the line.
“What do you want, Camille?”
“I’m at a diner on Fourth Street,” she said, her voice cracking into a ragged sob. “Julian Sterling... Daniel’s lawyer. He just met with me. They’re pinning everything on me, Serena. Daniel signed an affidavit claiming I forged his digital signature on the Cayman transfers! He told the DA that I was an obsessed stalker who embezzled funds from his firm to ruin his marriage!”
I leaned back in my leather chair. A wave of bitter, cold realization washed over me. Daniel was executing the exact playbook he had prepared for me, but using his discarded mistress instead.
“Why are you calling me?” I asked evenly. “You poured foundation down my neck and tried to destroy my life four days ago.”
“Because you’re the only one who knows how evil he is!” she cried, hysteria rising in her voice. “The DA is talking about ten years in federal prison! I don't have money for high-priced defense lawyers! Daniel took my apartment keycard back, he froze the joint account, and his father’s security thugs threatened to run me out of town if I went to the press!”
“You made your bed, Camille.”
“I have the recordings!” she blurted out.
The room went still.
“What recordings?” I asked.
“Daniel was paranoid,” Camille whispered, her breathing ragged. “He always bragged about how smart he was when we were in bed. I started recording him on my voice memo app six months ago just in case he tried to screw me over on my commission. I have him admitting to the Harbor House embezzlement. I have him explaining how he was going to falsify your psychological records to have you declared incompetent!”
My grip on the edge of the desk tightened. “Why didn’t you give them to the police?”
“Because Julian Sterling told me that if I handed over unauthorized recordings, Daniel would sue me for wiretapping and make sure I died in jail! Please, Serena... I’ll give you everything. Just... don't let him walk away while I take the fall for his crimes.”
I looked out the window at the rain washing the soot from the brick buildings below. Camille was not innocent. She was cruel, arrogant, and had gleefully participated in my humiliation. But she was also a pawn that Daniel was about to crush without a second thought.
“Listen to me very carefully, Camille,” I said, my voice firm and uncompromising. “You do not meet me alone. You do not talk to Daniel, and you do not speak to Julian Sterling again.”
“What do I do?” she asked, weeping.
“You walk out of that diner right now,” I commanded. “You walk three blocks north to the State Police headquarters on Ninth Avenue. Ask for Detective Marcus Vance. Tell him you want to enter into a proffer agreement with the state prosecutor in exchange for full immunity on the wiretapping charges.”
“Will... will you be there?”
“I’ll meet you in the prosecutor’s conference room in thirty minutes,” I said. “And Camille?”
“Yes?”
“Bring the phone.”
I ended the call, grabbed my trench coat from the coat stand, and stepped out into the hallway.
May you like
The trap Daniel had set for both of us was about to snap shut on his own neck.
***
