Chapter 7 - The Reckoning of Sienna
The fallout did not stop in the deposition suite.
Two days after Derek signed the preliminary settlement papers, the criminal machinery of the justice system moved with terrifying precision.
I received a call from Marcus Vance while sitting in the administrative offices of Grace’s private school in Evanston. I was finalizing the paperwork to remove Derek’s name from the emergency contact cards and the authorized pickup lists.
"Maya, you need to see the local news at noon," Marcus said, his tone carrying an unusual edge of grim closure.
"What happened?"
"Sienna DeLuca’s plea deal fell through," Marcus said. "The federal prosecutors discovered she was playing both sides."
I went out to my car, sat in the driver's seat, and pulled up the Chicago Tribune live feed on my phone.
The headline was blaring: *FORMER EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT IN VANGUARD CREST FRAUD SCANDAL ARRESTED ON EXPANDED FEDERAL INDICTMENT*.
The video footage showed Sienna walking out of a federal courthouse in downtown Chicago, flanked by two armed federal marshals. Gone were the emerald designer gowns, the diamond necklaces, the perfectly styled dark hair, and the smug, arrogant smirk she had worn at the Drake Hotel gala.
She was dressed in a drab gray prison jumpsuit, her hands handcuffed in front of her waist, her hair pulled back into a messy, unwashed knot. When the cameras flashed and reporters shouted questions, she broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, hiding her face against her shoulder as she was guided into the back of an armored transport van.
The reporter’s voice narrated over the video:
*"Federal prosecutors revealed this morning that Sienna DeLuca, 26, had secretly transferred an additional $600,000 from Vanguard Crest accounts into a private cryptocurrency wallet registered under her brother’s name in Panama—funds she attempted to hide even while negotiating a cooperation agreement against her former lover and CEO, Derek Sterling. With the plea deal revoked, DeLuca faces up to twenty years in federal prison for multiple counts of wire fraud, aggravated identity theft, and tax evasion."*
I turned off the screen and sat in the quiet of my car, taking a long, deep breath.
There was no joy in watching another human being destroy their life. But there was an overwhelming sense of cosmic justice. Sienna had thought she was playing an easy game: seducing an insecure, wealthy executive, tearing down a marriage, ridiculing a nine-year-old child, and skimming millions into offshore accounts while leaving a path of emotional devastation in her wake.
She had forgotten that actions carry weight. That lies rot from the inside out. And that the women she dismissed as weak victims were often the very ones capable of bringing the entire ceiling down on her head.
My phone rang again. It was an unfamiliar local number.
I answered cautiously. "Hello?"
"Maya... it’s me."
It was Derek’s mother, Eleanor.
Eleanor had always been an aloof, aristocratic woman who viewed me as a middle-class outsider who wasn't quite pedigreed enough for her golden-boy son. Throughout our marriage, she had subtly criticized everything from my cooking to my parenting, always reminding me how "lucky" I was that Derek had chosen me.
"Hello, Eleanor," I said evenly.
A pause lingered on the line, heavy with embarrassment.
"I... I saw the news," Eleanor said, her voice fragile, stripped of its usual haughty superiority. "Derek came by my house this morning. He was... he was packing clothes into garbage bags. He said he lost the condo. He said the board has seized his remaining equity."
"He didn't lose it, Eleanor. He surrendered it to pay back what he stole from your granddaughter’s educational trust."
"Did he... did he truly do that, Maya?" Eleanor asked, her voice cracking with genuine shame. "Did he really steal from Grace?"
"Yes, Eleanor. He did. And if you’d like to see the bank receipts, Marcus Vance will gladly forward them to your lawyer."
A quiet, muffled sob came through the line. "I am so sorry, Maya. I raised him to believe that winning in business was the only thing that mattered. I never imagined... I never thought he could be so monstrous."
I softened slightly, recognizing the authentic grief of an aging mother whose illusions about her child had been permanently shattered.
"Grace is doing well, Eleanor," I said gently. "She’s safe. And if you want to visit her, you are welcome to come to our home in Evanston whenever you wish. But Derek cannot be there. Not now. Maybe not ever."
"Thank you, Maya," Eleanor wept softly. "Thank you for being the mother he didn't deserve."
May you like
I hung up, looked up through the windshield at the gray winter clouds breaking apart to reveal the faint, pale blue of an early afternoon sky, and drove home.
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