Chapter 6 - The Great DisentanglementBack in my quiet, sunlit hotel suite, the city sprawled out below me like a glittering chessboard. I poured myself a glass of sparkling water, watching the gentle fizz rise to the surface. For the first time in six years, the air in my lungs felt entirely my own. There was no walking on eggshells, no hyper-vigilance waiting for the sound of Jason’s key in the lock, no lingering smell of cheap perfume disguised as gym sweat.
My laptop sat open on the mahogany desk, displaying the live updates from Marcus’s legal team. The divorce petition had been officially stamped and filed. Because of the irrefutable digital paper trail I had meticulously gathered over the past three weeks—including the receipts for Mia’s apartment, the wire transfers for the unauthorized corporate loans, and the text messages where Jason bragged about draining our accounts—the judge had granted an expedited asset freeze and temporary restraining order.
My phone, a brand-new device with a private, unlisted number, chimed softly. It was an email from Marcus.
Subject: Asset liquidation complete.
I opened the attachment. The $200,000 was safely secured in the irrevocable trust, completely untouchable by creditors, tax agencies, or Jason’s desperate legal maneuvers. Furthermore, the mortgage on our primary residence—which Jason’s name had miraculously never been added to because of his terrible credit history years ago—was 100% in my name.
As far as the law was concerned, Jason Vance was a ghost.
Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed at my hotel suite door. I froze, my heart skipping a single beat. Had he found me? Had Barbara tracked my license plate through some desperate stroke of maternal malice?
I crossed the room silently, peering through the peephole.
It wasn't Jason. It was a tall, elegant woman with sharp features and a tailored grey blazer holding a leather briefcase. It was Detective Vance—no relation to Jason, thankfully—from the municipal fraud division whom Marcus had briefed earlier that morning.
I unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Mrs. Vance?” she asked professionally, flashing a gold badge.
“Miss,” I corrected smoothly. “And yes, that’s me.”
“We’ve picked up your ex-husband for questioning regarding the corporate embezzlement and wire fraud charges filed by Arthur Sterling,” the detective said, stepping into the entryway. “We found him sitting in a parked car outside your old apartment building, sobbing into his steering wheel. He gave us this address hoping you’d bail him out.”
I couldn't help the small, sardonic smile that touched my lips. “I’m afraid I’m all out of charity, Detective. What happens to him now?”
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“Arraignment is scheduled for tomorrow morning,” she replied, closing her notebook. “Given the scale of the federal infractions and the lack of liquid assets, bail will likely be denied. He’s looking at serious federal time.”
“Good,” I said softly, meeting her eyes without a shred of hesitation. “Make sure he stays there.”
