Chapter 9 - The Confession of the Mistress
By mid-afternoon, the news had shattered Wall Street. Vance Global stock, rather than crashing, surged twelve percent as the market celebrated the purging of Caleb’s toxic corruption and the decisive ascension of Richard Vance’s true heir.
I sat in my father’s old corner office, resting my hand on the smooth green leather of his desk chair. The scent of his pipe tobacco still faintly lingered in the mahogany bookshelves.
There was a soft knock at the door. Harlan stepped inside, followed by a woman wrapped in a cheap oversized trench coat, her head down, trembling visibly.
It was Vanessa Cross.
Without her diamonds, designer heels, and smug smirk, she looked small, hollow, and utterly terrified. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying.
"She arrived at the lobby an hour ago begging to see you," Harlan said quietly. "She brought something."
Vanessa dropped to her knees right in front of my desk, weeping uncontrollably. "Eleanor... please, please listen to me. I didn't know about the insurance policy! I swear on my mother’s soul, I didn't know he was trying to hurt you or the baby!"
I didn't tell her to stand up. I simply looked at her from behind the massive desk. "You were happy enough taking my father's money to furnish your penthouse, Vanessa. You stood in the front pew of a holy sanctuary and mocked my grief."
"He lied to me!" she sobbed, pulling a pink leather-bound journal and a gold flash drive from her coat pocket, pushing them across the desk with trembling fingers. "He told me you were abusive, that you trapped him with a fake pregnancy! But last month, I found his private notes. He kept a ledger of every person he bribed, every account he used, and... and the name of the doctor he hired in Switzerland."
Harlan immediately stepped forward, picking up the flash drive with a gloved hand and inspecting it.
"Why are you giving this to me?" I asked coldly.
"Because the feds raided my sister’s apartment two hours ago," Vanessa wept, clutching her face. "Caleb put two of the offshore shell companies in my name without me realizing what it meant. They’re going to charge me as a co-conspirator! I’m looking at twenty years in prison, Eleanor! Please... talk to the prosecutors. Tell them I cooperated. I'll testify against him. I’ll tell them everything he said on the nights he drank too much!"
I looked at the woman who had tried to take everything from me, now reduced to a puddle of tears on the carpet.
"Arthur," I said quietly.
"Yes, Eleanor?"
"Call the District Attorney’s office. Hand over the drive. Tell them Ms. Cross has offered a full proffer of evidence in exchange for a plea agreement on non-violent conspiracy charges."
May you like
Vanessa let out a ragged breath of relief. "Thank you... oh God, thank you—"
"Don't thank me," I cut her off, my voice turning to ice. "You're still going to prison, Vanessa. You’re just going to a minimum-security facility for three years instead of twenty. And when you get out, every single asset you own will be garnished to repay the Vance Foundation. Now get out of my sight."
