Chapter 8 - The Dominoes FallThe look of sheer, unadulterated terror on Marcus Vance’s face was a masterpiece of human emotion. He looked from the federal investigator down to the warrants, and finally over at David, who looked like he was about to pass out on the carpet.
“David,” Marcus hissed, grabbing his business partner by the lapels of his wrinkled suit. “You said she was just a housewife! You said she wouldn't look at the fine print!”
“She... she’s not a housewife!” David choked out, stumbling backward as the federal marshals stepped forward, their heavy hands gripping both men by the shoulders with practiced ease. “She built an enterprise before we even met! I told you we shouldn't have touched her accounts!”
The marshals slapped cold, heavy steel handcuffs onto Marcus’s wrists first, followed swiftly by a second pair for David. The metallic click-click of the cuffs echoed sharply against the glass walls of the high-rise boardroom, drowning out the sound of the rain lashing outside.
“Wait! Eleanor, please!” David cried out, his voice cracking with pathetic desperation as the marshals dragged him toward the exit. “We were married for five years! We built a life! Can’t we talk about this like adults?”
I walked over to the window, looking out over the sprawling, rain-soaked Manhattan skyline where he had planned to escape with his mistress and my money. I didn't even turn around to look at him.
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“We are talking, David,” I said softly, watching my own reflection in the glass. “You wanted a four-year separation. Let’s see how you like it behind bars.”
The heavy oak doors clicked shut, leaving me alone in the boardroom with my attorneys and the quiet hum of the ventilation system. The nightmare was over. The trap had snapped shut. And for the first time in five years, the air in the room felt entirely mine.
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