Chapter 7 - The Mistress Speaks
While Garrett was descending into madness in Queens, I was sitting in Marcus Chen’s downtown law office, drinking black coffee.
Opposite me sat Elena Rossi.
She looked entirely different from the glamorous, poised woman who had walked into my home during our anniversary party wearing Cartier diamonds that my money had paid for. Her designer dress was wrinkled, her mascara was ruined, and she was clutching a large manila folder against her chest like a shield.
“I didn't know the money was stolen from your trust, Claire,” Elena whispered, her voice shaking violently. “I swear to God, I didn't know. Garrett told me you two had an open arrangement—that you lived separate lives, and that the company’s capital came from his personal tech investments.”
I set my coffee cup down with a soft *clink*.
“Elena, you have a master’s degree in finance from Columbia,” I said evenly. “You prepared the cash-flow decks for Vance Logistics. You knew the company had no real clients. You knew the invoices being sent to Apex Horizons were circular. You didn't ask questions because he bought you a three-million-dollar villa in Florida and twenty-thousand-dollar handbags.”
Elena flinched, pulling her legs under her chair. “I’m facing federal prison, aren't I?”
“Yes,” Marcus Chen interjected from the head of the table. “Conspiracy to commit wire fraud, bank fraud, and interstate transportation of stolen property. That’s eight to twelve years at Danbury minimum security, Elena. Your career is over. Your name will be radioactive.”
Elena began to weep softly, covering her face with her hands. “I have a six-year-old daughter. Please... please, Claire. Garrett made me sign those holding company documents. He told me it was for tax planning.”
“I don't care about your tears, Elena,” I said coldly. “I care about truth, and I care about accountability. You enjoyed the fruits of my family’s labor while sleeping with my husband and laughing behind my back. But unlike Garrett, you are smart enough to understand when a ship has sunk to the bottom of the ocean.”
Elena looked up through her swollen, red eyes. “What do you want?”
“The black hard drive,” I said.
Elena paused, her breath catching in her throat. “How do you know about that?”
“Garrett is an arrogant narcissist, but he’s also a coward,” I said. “He always kept insurance on everyone he dealt with—including the loan sharks at Kestrel Holdings and his mother’s offshore bankers. He told you to hide it, didn't he?”
Elena swallowed hard. She slowly reached into her oversized leather tote bag and pulled out a sleek, matte-black encrypted external drive. She placed it on the glass table between us.
“The encryption password is his mother’s birthdate backwards,” Elena said, her voice barely a whisper. “It contains everything. The recorded phone calls between Garrett and the lenders at Kestrel. The wire confirmations for Vivian’s gambling debts. And the video logs of Garrett practicing your signature with a light-box tracing device in his private study.”
Marcus reached out and took the drive, his eyes flashing with grim satisfaction. “This is the final nail, Claire. With this, the DA can indict Garrett on fifteen felony counts by tomorrow morning. And Kestrel Holdings won't be able to touch a single brick of your family’s real estate—the entire contract is tainted by criminal fraud.”
I looked at Elena.
“You will go to the District Attorney’s office with Marcus right now,” I told her. “You will give a full, voluntary deposition. If you cooperate completely, Marcus will ask the prosecutors to recommend probation instead of prison time for your cooperation.”
Elena nodded frantically, tears streaming down her neck. “Thank you. Thank you, Claire. I’m so sorry... I’m so, so sorry.”
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“Don't thank me,” I said, picking up my purse and standing. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this to make sure Garrett Vance never hurts another human being for the rest of his miserable life.”
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