Chapter 6 - CORNERS OF THE TRAP
Three days after the disastrous dinner party, the story broke in the financial press.
"FAIRCHILD ESTATE SCANDAL: PROMINENT SOCIALITE AND SON ARRESTED FOR $4M EMBEZZLEMENT."
The fallout was swift and brutal. Vivian’s high-society friends vanished overnight. Her charity board stripped her of her title, and the prestigious country club canceled her membership. Marcus’s business partners pulled out of his pending tech merger, leaving him facing massive personal debt on top of his criminal charges.
I moved into a quiet, sunlit apartment in the city, far away from the Fairchild estate. For the first time in years, I could breathe without feeling the crushing weight of judgment.
However, the war was far from over.
On Thursday morning, my attorney, Sarah Vance, called me into her office.
"Marcus posted bail using his remaining liquid assets," Sarah warned me, sliding a document across her desk. "And his defense lawyer is playing dirty. They're claiming the security recordings were illegally obtained under state wiretapping laws, and they're attempting to void your prenuptial agreement."
I frowned. "The cameras were installed under estate maintenance, and the micro-microphones were explicitly listed in the home insurance policy disclosures. I checked the law before I put them in."
"I know that, and you know that," Sarah replied. "But they are trying to exhaust your funds through endless pre-trial motions so you'll accept a quiet settlement and sign a non-disclosure agreement."
"They want my silence again," I said, my jaw tightening.
"Exactly. Vivian still has offshore assets in her sister's name that the police haven't seized yet. She's funding Marcus’s defense team. If they successfully suppress the audio tapes in court, Marcus might walk away with a light probation sentence."
I sat back in my chair, calculating my next move. Vivian and Marcus thought they were playing a game of legal attrition. They assumed that because I was a working-class girl with limited resources, I would eventually fold.
They forgot who did the books.
"Sarah," I said, a dark smile touching my lips. "Vivian thinks her sister's offshore account is hidden. Did I ever tell you who audited her sister’s logistics firm four years ago?"
May you like
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "You?"
"Every single dollar," I said. "It’s time to call the IRS."
