Chapter 3 - The War Begins
Three hours later, I was sitting in Maya’s warm living room, wrapped in a plush fleece blanket. A mug of steaming tea sat untouched on the coffee table in front of me.
Maya was sitting on the edge of the cushion, carefully applying an ice pack to the left side of my jaw. Her face was a storm of dark, furious emotions as she examined the deep purplish bruise forming near my cheekbone.
“I’m going to kill him,” Maya whispered through gritted teeth. “I swear to God, Claire, I’m going to take a bat to Frank Mercer’s car.”
“Don’t,” I murmured, wincing slightly as the cold pack pressed against my tender skin. “That’s what they want. They want me to throw a fit, make a scene, and look like the crazy one.”
“You hit him with a pry bar!” Maya said, a mix of awe and terror in her eyes. “That’s bad-ass, Claire, but Frank is a violent psycho. He could have killed you.”
“He tried to break me,” I said, looking down at my bruised hands. “The moment I let him hit me without fighting back, I would have been their servant forever. Ryan was never going to stand up for me. He was in on it from the beginning.”
The door to the office down the hall opened, and a woman in a crisp gray pantsuit walked into the living room carrying a yellow legal pad.
This was Eleanor Vance, one of Chicago’s top family law attorneys and Maya’s cousin. Maya had called her the moment she picked me up from Bridgeport.
Eleanor took a seat across from us, her sharp gaze scanning my face and the blood-stained hem of my dress.
“I’ve taken photos of the bruises and the cut on your lip,” Eleanor said calmly, her tone completely professional. “We’re going to the urgent care clinic down the street in thirty minutes to get an official medical evaluation and document the injuries on record. After that, we go to the police station to file a domestic battery report against Frank Mercer.”
“Will they arrest him?” I asked.
“Given the severity of the marks and your clear statement, yes, they likely will,” Eleanor replied. “At the very least, it establishes an undeniable paper trail. But we need to act fast on the financial side.”
Eleanor opened her folder and tapped a pen against her pad. “Tell me about the money.”
“I put thirty-two thousand dollars into a joint account two weeks before the wedding,” I explained. “It was meant for our apartment deposit, furnishings, and wedding expenses that hadn't cleared yet. About ten thousand is still sitting in that account.”
“Is Ryan’s name on the account?”
“Yes. It’s a joint checking account at Chase.”
Eleanor immediately picked up her phone. “Transfer your half out right now. In fact, if you can prove the funds came exclusively from your individual personal account prior to the wedding, transfer all of it back to your primary account before Ryan realizes what’s happening and drains it.”
My fingers flew across my phone screen. I logged into my banking app.
My heart sank.
Current Balance: $412.00.
“He already took it,” I said, my voice dropping an octave. “He transferred nine thousand five hundred dollars out an hour ago.”
Eleanor didn’t look surprised, but her jaw tightened. “Where did he transfer it?”
I tapped the transaction details. “To an account registered under 'Mercer Renovations LLC'—that’s his father’s company.”
Maya let out an angry curse. “They planned this! They wanted her money from the very start!”
“It appears so,” Eleanor said, her eyes narrowing. “They thought by beating her into submission on day one, she would be too terrified or ashamed to fight back financially. But they made a massive mistake.”
“What mistake?” I asked.
Eleanor leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “They assumed you were helpless. They took your money through a fraudulent transfer right after a physical assault. We aren't just filing for an annulment on grounds of fraud and cruelty, Claire. We are going to destroy them financially.”
My phone began to ring on the table. The screen lit up with Ryan’s name.
Maya reached for it, but Eleanor held up a hand. “Put it on speaker, Claire. Don’t say a word. Just let him talk.”
I slid the button and set the phone on the glass table.
“Claire?” Ryan’s voice came through the speaker, breathless and agitated. “Where the hell are you? My mom is crying her eyes out. Dad’s ribs are severely bruised, and he’s talking about calling his lawyer to sue you for assault!”
I remained silent, listening to the tremor in his voice.
“Look,” Ryan continued, his tone shifting from anger to desperation. “You need to come back here right now and apologize to my dad. If you apologize and agree to help out around the house like we discussed, Dad said he won’t press charges. We can move past this, Claire. Just stop being so dramatic!”
Eleanor looked at me and gave a slight nod.
I leaned closer to the phone. “Ryan?”
“Yeah? Are you coming back?”
“I took a picture of my face,” I said slowly, every word dripping with cold precision. “I have a cut lip and a swollen jaw. The police are on their way to your father’s house right now.”
There was a sudden, absolute silence on the line.
May you like
“And one more thing,” I added. “I know about the nine thousand five hundred dollars you stole from our account this morning. You have twenty-four hours to put it back, or I’ll make sure the prosecutor adds felony grand larceny to your father’s assault charges.”
I hung up the phone before he could reply.
