Chapter 4 - The House of Cards
Vanessa stood up so quickly her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "This is a setup! You hacked my devices! You planted that data!"
"I didn't have to plant anything," I said. "You were sloppy. You thought because I work with my hands, I don't know how to track a snake."
Just then, the glass doors of the alcove opened again. Marcus Vance walked in, wearing his signature tailored suit, followed by two men in dark overcoats. Behind them was Elena, accompanied by a cameraman whose red recording light was glaringly active.
"What is the meaning of this?" Lydia gasped, trying to block the camera with her designer handbag. "Turn that off! This is a private dining room!"
"Actually, Mrs. Sterling, it’s a public crime scene," Marcus said, his voice ringing with authority. He stepped forward and handed a thick stack of legal documents to Vanessa.
"Vanessa Sterling, you are being formally served with a lawsuit for civil defamation, identity theft, computer fraud, and intentional infliction of emotional distress," Marcus declared. "We are seeking damages in the amount of ten million dollars."
Vanessa stared at the papers in her hand as if they were covered in poison. "This is ridiculous. You can't sue me for this."
"Oh, we can," Marcus smiled coldly. "And while we're on the subject of law, these gentlemen behind me are from the State Police Cyber Crimes Division. They have a warrant for the seizure of all your electronic devices, including the iPad currently in your purse."
Vanessa’s eyes darted toward the exit, but the officers stepped into her path.
"Ma'am, please hand over your devices," the lead officer said.
"Mother, do something!" Vanessa shrieked, her composure completely shattering. "Call our lawyers!"
But Lydia wasn't looking at Vanessa. She was looking at the guests at the table—the women she had spent decades trying to impress, the women whose social approval was her oxygen. They were all staring at her with disgust and horror. Some were already whispering into their phones, texting the news to the rest of the city's high society.
Elena stepped forward, holding a microphone. "Mrs. Sterling, is it true that you and your daughter conspired to forge medical records to strip Claire of her trust fund rights? Did you use your influence to cover up previous financial discrepancies in your real estate firm?"
"Get that camera out of my face!" Lydia screamed, her voice cracking.
Claire stood up slowly. She looked at her mother, then at her sister, who was currently being escorted out of the restaurant by the police officers, her manicured hands clutching her designer bag in a desperate attempt to hide her face from the camera.
Claire walked over to me. She didn't look at the screen, she didn't look at the guests. She just wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder, sobbing with a deep, violent relief.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry I didn't stop them sooner."
"It's over, Claire," I said, holding her tight. "It's all over."
But as I looked over her shoulder at the empty chair where Vanessa had been sitting, I noticed something.
Vanessa’s phone was still on the table. It was face up, and a notification had just popped up.
It was an encrypted message from an unknown number.
“He knows about the clinic. Initiate Phase 2 immediately. Get the offshore accounts cleared before the freeze.”
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I stared at the screen.
Vanessa wasn't working alone. And this wasn't just about a trust fund.
