Chapter 4 - The False Olive Branch
Harrison’s face on the monitor shifted from "begging puppy" to "cornered predator" in a heartbeat.
He dropped the lilies,
the petals scattering across the floor like discarded tissues.
"You're playing a dangerous game,
Claire,"
he said,
his voice dropping an octave.
"That note you posted...
it's a forgery,
and our lawyers will prove it by dinner time."
"You're slandering a legacy."
"It's not slander if it's the truth,"
I replied,
sitting back and crossing my legs.
"And that's just the tip of the iceberg,
Harrison."
"I know about the Cayman accounts."
"I know about the pension fund."
"And I know about the forty-nine percent."
The silence that followed was so heavy it felt like it might break the intercom system.
Harrison’s jaw tightened,
and he leaned closer to the camera.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Your father was a minority partner."
"He had no voting rights."
"He was a silent partner who stayed silent because he was just as dirty as we are."
"My father was a protector,"
I snapped.
"He kept those records to make sure you never hurt me."
"And now,
I’m using them."
Harrison let out a short,
bitter laugh.
"You think Marcus Thorne can save you?"
"We own half the judges in this district."
"By tomorrow morning,
you'll be served with a restraining order and a lawsuit that will take every penny you have."
"Just give me the ledger,
Claire."
"I'll give you a ten-million-dollar 'bonus' on your divorce settlement,
and we can both walk away."
"Ten million?"
I asked,
feigning interest.
"That’s a lot of money for a forged ledger,
don't you think?"
"It’s a 'nuisance fee,'"
he said,
his eyes flickering with hope.
"Think about it."
"You can move to Paris,
start that gallery you always wanted,
and never hear the name Voss again."
"Or,
you can stay here and watch as we bury you."
I pretended to consider it for a moment.
I wanted him to stay right there,
in front of the camera,
while Marcus’s team was finishing the digital filing of the embezzlement evidence with the SEC.
"I'll think about it,"
I said.
"But I want Patricia to apologize to me.
In person.
On her knees."
Harrison scowled.
"She’ll never do that."
"Then I guess we have nothing more to say,"
I said,
and I cut the connection.
I watched him kick the door one last time before stalking away toward the elevator.
He was desperate.
And a desperate man is a man who makes mistakes.
I went back to the ledger and found the most damning entry of all.
It was a transfer dated three years ago—the day we were married.
Harrison had used five million dollars of my father’s money to pay off a private investigator.
An investigator who had been hired to follow me.
They had been planning to frame me for infidelity from day one,
just in case I ever tried to leave.
They had been building a case to strip me of my rights before the wedding bells had even stopped ringing.
The betrayal was so deep it felt like a physical wound.
May you like
But I wasn't bleeding anymore.
I was sharpening my blade.
