Chapter 7 - The Master Plan
Inside the quiet marble lounge away from the brass band, I broke down. I didn't wail; I simply let the quiet tears spill over.
Eleanor stood beside me, handing me linen towels. "Tell me the truth, Caroline. And remember: you are speaking to someone who knows the signs of coercion better than anyone in this city."
I didn't just tell her. I took out my phone.
I played the raw audio from November 14th.
The cold acoustics of our kitchen filled the marble room. *“Mothers don’t get sick days, Caroline. You’ve been home all day. Figure it out.”* Then the audio from the garage: *“Do you realize what an ambulance could cost? Call your mother.”*
Then I showed Eleanor the screenshots of Andrew’s hidden financial trail.
Eleanor’s face went from professional concern to absolute, ice-cold fury.
"The regional vice presidency is an executive trust," Eleanor whispered, her voice deadly steady. "My husband makes the final recommendation to the board tomorrow afternoon. Andrew spent the last month bribing lower-level underwriters to approve high-risk loans for Robert’s commercial developments to look like a rainmaker."
She looked at me, her eyes burning with maternal ferocity. "Caroline, who is representing you?"
"I haven't hired anyone yet. I was afraid of losing the boys. Andrew threatened to claim I was clinically depressed and unfit."
Eleanor took a gold pen from her purse, scribbled a name and a private cell number on a napkin, and pressed it into my palm.
May you like
"This is Diane Vance. She was my chief clerk before she became the most ruthless divorce attorney in the Empire State. Call her at seven tomorrow morning. Tell her Eleanor sent you. And leave the board meeting to me."
***
