Chapter 7 - The Unravelling
Three weeks passed.
The fallout from the collapse of Vale House dominated the regional news. The cancellation of six fall weddings created a massive public outcry, with devastated brides appearing on local television stations demanding answers about their stolen security deposits.
The court-appointed receiver conducted a thorough forensic audit of the venue’s books, uncovering a disastrous web of hidden debt, double-booked vendor contracts, and long-standing tax evasion orchestrated by Lenora and executed by Julian over a four-year period.
One evening, while I was preparing dinner in my apartment, my doorbell rang.
I looked through the peephole. Standing in the hallway was Rhea Vale. She looked drastically different than she had at the estate—she was wearing plain jeans, a dark coat, and her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, free of the corporate polish of Vale House.
I opened the door.
“Camille,” Rhea said quietly, holding a paper bag containing a bottle of white wine and two bakery containers. “Do you have a few minutes? I’m not here to ask for anything. I just... I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
I hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside to let her in. “Come on in, Rhea.”
We sat at my small dining table. Rhea poured two glasses of wine—a crisp Sauvignon Blanc, far away from the dark red Pinot Noir that had defined that awful night.
“My parents had to sell their personal townhouse in Albany last week to pay off the immediate state tax judgments,” Rhea shared, staring down at her glass. “They’re living in a rented two-bedroom apartment in Poughkeepsie now. My mother hasn't left her bed in ten days. Her entire social circle, her prestigious board positions—it all evaporated overnight.”
“And Julian?” I asked quietly.
“He was formally indicted on Tuesday,” Rhea said, her voice dropping. “Three counts of grand larceny, two counts of corporate forgery, and one count of scheme to defraud. His court-appointed attorney is trying to negotiate a plea deal, but the prosecutor is pushing for two to four years in state prison.”
I took a slow sip of wine. “How are you holding up, Rhea?”
A strange, soft smile touched Rhea’s lips for the first time. “Honestly? For the first time in ten years, I can breathe. I spent a decade trying to save a drowning ship while my mother treated me like a glorified servant and Julian spent our revenue on his playboy lifestyle. When you stood up to them in that library, Camille... you broke a spell that had kept me trapped my entire adult life.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a clean white envelope, setting it on the table between us.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s a check for $4,500,” Rhea explained. “It’s the legal retainer fees you paid Asha Moreno out of your personal pocket to review our fraudulent paperwork. I took a job as a logistics manager for a hotel group in Stamford last week. I paid it out of my first salary advance.”
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I looked at the check, then at Rhea. “You didn't owe me this, Rhea.”
“Yes, I did,” Rhea insisted gently. “My family tried to rob you of your father’s memory. It’s the absolute least I can do to start paying back the universe.”
