Chapter 13 - The InvitationThree days later, a formal legal summons was delivered to the federal penitentiary upstate, addressed to inmate Ryan Vance, and another to a luxury penthouse in downtown Manhattan where Vanessa was currently hiding out.
It wasn't a subpoena for a new lawsuit. It was an invitation to a private deposition at Damian’s corporate law firm offices in the city.
The receptionist buzzed my office at exactly 2:00 PM on Friday.
“Mrs. Sterling, your visitors have arrived in Conference Room B. Mr. Ryan Vance, accompanied by legal counsel, and Miss Vanessa Vance.”
I didn't rush. I took my time reviewing a quarterly sustainability report, checked my watch, and slowly walked down the private executive corridor.
When I opened the heavy glass door of Conference Room B, the contrast was staggering.
Vanessa sat at the head of the polished oak table, dressed in an oversized designer coat, her sunglasses still perched on her face indoors like she was hiding from the flashbulbs of an invisible paparazzi. Next to her sat Ryan.
He had changed drastically from the broken, ashen inmate I had last seen in the media clips. His hair was grown out slightly, styled with prison-issued pomade, and he wore a tailored suit provided by Vanessa’s expensive defense team. But his eyes—those desperate, shifting eyes—revealed the hollow panic underneath.
When he looked up and saw me walk in—not as his frightened, postpartum wife, but as the CEO of the multi-billion-dollar corporation that had once employed him—he froze mid-sentence.
Vanessa pulled down her sunglasses, sneering. “Well, look who finally decided to show up. Did it take your little brother holding your hand to get you out of bed, Clare?”
I didn't blink. I walked straight to the opposite end of the table, pulled out the central leather chair, and sat down deliberately, resting my hands flat on the polished wood.
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“Vanessa,” I said, my voice completely devoid of warmth. “You look desperate. It doesn't suit your brand.”
Ryan swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as he clutched a legal pad. “Clare… please. We just want to talk. We can settle this without destroying what’s left of our lives.”
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