Chapter 8 - The Fall of the Grifter
The confrontation took place under the harsh fluorescent lights of the vault facility’s subterranean parking garage.
Vanessa had just pushed open the heavy steel fire exit door, her arms clutching the stolen envelope of bearer bonds, her breath pluming in the cold air as she hurried toward her waiting Uber.
“Vanessa Mercer?”
She froze.
Two men in dark suits stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, their badges flashing under the overhead lights. Federal Marshals. Simultaneously, a local process server stepped forward holding a thick stack of blue-backed legal documents.
“You’re being served with federal warrants for bank fraud, felony asset concealment, and perjury in connection with ongoing judicial proceedings,” the lead marshal announced, stepping closer.
Vanessa dropped her handbag. The envelope slipped from her grasp, scattering currency and fake identification cards across the greasy concrete.
“This is a mistake!” Vanessa shrieked, her voice echoing off the concrete walls. “My attorney is Victor Sterling! I am the victim here! My husband is a violent monster—he’s framing me!”
“Your husband is currently sitting at home eating pancakes with his children,” a calm, familiar voice echoed from the shadows of the ramp.
Vanessa whipped her head around.
Daniel stepped out from the darkness, his hands in his pockets, his trench coat collar turned up against the chill. He didn't look angry. He looked entirely, perfectly indifferent—the one thing a narcissist like Vanessa could never tolerate.
“Daniel?” she gasped, stumbling forward a step before the marshal gently placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Daniel, you have to help them! They’re arresting me! Tell them it’s a misunderstanding!”
“There’s no misunderstanding, Vanessa,” Daniel said, stopping five feet away from her. He looked down at the scattered cash and fake IDs on the floor, then back up into her panicked, mascara-streaked eyes. “You tried to rob me, you lied to the court, and most unforgivably, you laid your hands on my children.”
“They’re brats!” she screamed, dropping all pretense of the sweet, grieving stepmother as the mask finally shattered completely. “They ruined everything! They deserved worse! You deserve to be miserable!”
“Maybe so,” Daniel said quietly. “But you won't be around to see it.”
The marshals guided her firmly toward the unmarked black SUV idling near the exit, her frantic screaming dissolving into muffled curses as the heavy doors slammed shut.
Daniel stood in the garage for a long moment, watching the tail-lights disappear up the ramp. Then, he pulled out his phone, dialed home, and listened as Lily’s sweet, clear voice answered on the first ring.
May you like
“Daddy? Are you coming home?”
“I’m on my way, sweetheart,” Daniel smiled, the last heavy weight finally lifting from his shoulders. “And the bad weather is completely gone.”
