Chapter 10 - Cornered Animals
Seventy-two hours later, Garrett Sterling sat in a damp, noisy visitors' booth at Rikers Island.
The bail reduction hearing had failed catastrophically. With the discovery of the Gabriel Vance passport and the encrypted Miami financial records, the judge had ruled him a severe flight risk and denied bail entirely.
Vivian sat on the opposite side of the scratched Plexiglas, her hair disheveled, wearing an off-the-rack trench coat that smelled of damp rain. She had spent the last three nights in a dingy Queens motel near the airport, surviving on room service charged to a rapidly maxing-out emergency credit card.
"You idiot!" Vivian hissed into the black plastic phone receiver, tears of fury streaking her heavy makeup. "How could you let her catch you? You told me she was stupid! You told me she never looked at the accounting reports!"
Garrett slammed his fist against the metal shelf below the glass. "Shut up, Mother! Just shut up! Did you find the cash in the upstate safe deposit box?"
Vivian looked down at her lap, her lip trembling. "The... the feds froze it yesterday morning, Garrett. Marcus Cole had an emergency injunction. Everything is gone. My apartment... they threw me out on the street like a common beggar!"
Garrett stared at her, his eyes wild and bloodshot. "What about Chloe? Did Chloe wire the emergency reserves from the Miami account?"
"Chloe isn't answering her phone, Garrett," Vivian whispered, her voice cracking. "The news said federal agents raided the Brickell penthouse on Friday afternoon."
Garrett pressed his forehead against the Plexiglas, a low, guttural groan escaping his chest. His world had vanished in seventy-two hours. The cars, the private jets, the tailored suits, the arrogant table-side dominance—all stripped away, leaving him in a rough, orange prisoner uniform in the most notorious jail in the state.
"We have to hit back," Garrett snarled, lifting his head, his eyes burning with frantic desperation. "We leak the files on her father."
Vivian frowned. "What files?"
"The old offshore files from 2012," Garrett said, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "The ones we doctored before Arthur died. If we release them to the press, it will look like Arthur Vance was running tax evasion schemes through Switzerland. The public won't care if it's fake—it will crash the Vance Holdings stock price! Claire will be forced to settle with us to save her father’s legacy!"
Vivian’s eyes flickered with a sudden, venomous spark of hope. "Do you have the digital copies?"
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"They're on a thumb drive hidden in the lining of my golf bag at the Westchester club," Garrett whispered. "Get the drive, call the tabloids. If I'm going down, I’m dragging the Vance name into the gutter with me."
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