Chapter 4 - The Scraps at the Bottom
(Word count: ~1500)
Three days after the boardroom execution, the autumn rain beat heavily against the windows of a small, cramped coffee shop on the outskirts of the city.
I sat near the back corner table, wearing a sleek black trench coat, sipping a hot cappuccino. Across from me sat Jessica.
She looked thoroughly miserable. The glamour of her former life as a high-society influencer and chief bridesmaid had been completely stripped away. Her designer clothes had been replaced by a plain, oversized sweater, her hair was tied back in a messy pony-tail, and her eyes were rimmed with dark circles.
"Did... did the prosecutor accept the immunity filing?" Jessica asked nervously, her hands wrapped tightly around a paper cup of black coffee.
"They accepted it," I replied smoothly, setting a copy of the signed legal agreement on the table between us. "You won't be named as a co-conspirator in Ethan’s corporate embezzlement trial. You are officially listed as a state witness."
Jessica let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, dropping her head onto the table for a second. "Thank you, Evelyn... thank you so much."
"Don't thank me, Jessica," I said, my voice dropping into a cold, sharp register that made her snap her head back up. "I didn't save you out of kindness. I saved you because your testimony puts Ethan behind bars for ten years instead of three."
Jessica swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. "I know you hate me. You have every right to. I was stupid... Ethan kept telling me that you didn't care about him, that your marriage was just a business arrangement, that as soon as the merger went through, he would divorce you and we’d take the Cayman money and move to Paris."
"And you believed a man who was stealing from his own father and cheating on his bride?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in genuine astonishment. "You really are as naive as you are disloyal."
"He lied to me about everything!" she cried softly, tears brimming in her eyes. "He told me he bought that downtown apartment for us! I just found out yesterday that the lease was in my name, and the landlord is suing me for three months of unpaid rent!"
I couldn't help the small, amused smile that crossed my lips. "Ethan never pays for anything if he can find someone else to take the fall. It's his defining trait."
"What am I supposed to do now, Evelyn?" Jessica whimpered, wiping her nose with a napkin. "My agency dropped me. My social media sponsors canceled all my contracts. Nobody in our friend circle will even return my text messages. I’m completely ruined."
I leaned forward, looking into the eyes of the girl who had sat beside me at brunch, helped me pick out my wedding veil, and held my hand while pretending to be my sister—all while sleeping with my fiancé.
"You're going to pack your bags, move back to your parents' small house in Ohio, and get a entry-level job at a local retail store," I told her, my voice completely devoid of sympathy. "And every single month for the next five years, you are going to wire eight hundred dollars to my legal fund to reimburse the administrative costs of your immunity agreement."
Jessica stared at me in horror. "Eight hundred dollars a month?! I don't have that kind of money!"
"Then I suggest you work double shifts, Jessica," I said, standing up and buttoning my trench coat. "Because if you miss a single payment, Marcus will revoke your immunity agreement, and you can join Ethan in state prison."
I picked up my umbrella and walked out of the coffee shop into the rain, leaving her weeping quietly over her cheap paper cup.
An hour later, my driver pulled up to a modest, two-story suburban home in a working-class neighborhood across town. This was the house owned by Victoria’s sister—the only relative who hadn't completely blocked Ethan and Victoria after the scandal broke.
I stepped onto the small wooden porch and rang the doorbell.
A minute later, the door creaked open. Victoria stood in the doorway, wearing a faded house dress, her silver hair unstyled, looking twenty years older than she had on the wedding night.
When she saw me standing on her porch, her face twisted in a mixture of bitter rage and profound, pathetic shame.
"What are you doing here, Evelyn?" Victoria rasped, clutching the edge of the door. "Have you come to gloat? Haven't you destroyed our lives enough?"
"I came to deliver Ethan’s remaining personal belongings," I said, gesturing toward my driver, who was unloading four large cardboard boxes from the trunk of the car. "Our house manager cleared out his clothes, his watches, and his golf clubs from the penthouse."
Victoria looked at the boxes being set down on her porch, her chest heaving. "He’s being arraigned on Monday, Evelyn. His bail is set at one million dollars. One million! We can't afford that! We had to mortgage this house just to retain a public defender!"
"That sounds like a difficult situation, Victoria," I said casually, adjusting my leather gloves.
"You could drop the civil claims!" she begged, stepping out onto the porch, her hands clasped together in a desperate plea. "If you drop the civil claims, the judge will lower his bail! He’s your husband, Evelyn! You stood at the altar and swore vows to him!"
"I swore vows to a man I believed was honest, loyal, and capable of basic human decency," I corrected her, stepping back toward the stairs. "Ethan broke those vows at 2:00 AM on our wedding night. Everything that happened after that was simply the bill coming due."
"You monster!" Victoria shrieked, her voice echoing down the quiet suburban street. "You cold, unfeeling bitch! You set a trap for him!"
I stopped at the bottom of the porch stairs, turning my head to look back at her one last time.
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"I didn't set a trap, Victoria," I said softly, my voice crystal clear in the crisp afternoon air. "I just built the mirror. Your son was the one who couldn't handle his own reflection."
Without waiting for her reply, I climbed into the back seat of my warm, leather-scented sedan and instructed my driver to take me back to the office.
