Chapter 3 - The War of the In-Laws
By noon, the fallout from the bank freeze had spread through the entire Vance family like a wildfire.
My phone rang continuously. It wasn't Luca anymore—he had been blocked—it was Wendy’s sister, Aunt Brenda, and Luca’s older brother, Julian, who lived in Chicago and had always looked down on me as a "budget bride."
I accepted Julian’s call on speakerphone while reviewing my custody filings with Sarah Miller.
"Jessi, what the hell are you playing at?" Julian’s voice boomed through the speakers. "Mom is hysterical! She said you froze the corporate accounts for Vance Properties! Do you have any idea how much money I have tied up in those commercial units on 5th Street?"
"Hello, Julian," I said calmly, sipping my tea. "It’s nice to hear from you too. How is your family?"
"Don't give me that corporate bullshit!" Julian snapped. "You pushed a sixty-year-old woman into a cake and stole my brother’s kid! You need to drop these bogus claims and bring Fiona back to the house right now before Mom files criminal assault charges against you!"
"Julian," I interrupted, my voice dropping an octave into pure authority. "Did you look at the attachment I sent to your personal email fifteen minutes ago?"
Silence hung on the line for three long seconds.
"What attachment?" Julian muttered.
"It’s a audit breakdown of Vance Properties from the last twenty-four months," I said smoothly. "While you were sitting in Chicago assuming your mother was sending you your eight percent quarterly dividend, Wendy was actually re-routing forty percent of your investment return into a private offshore account in the Cayman Islands under Luca’s name."
The sound of paper rustling came through the speaker, followed by the rapid clatter of computer keys.
"What... what are you talking about?" Julian’s voice lost its aggressive edge, replaced by a sudden, sharp anxiety.
"Look at page four, line item 112," I directed. "Every time Wendy bought a new piece of jewelry or hosted a lavish family banquet—like the one where she slapped my daughter—she listed it as a 'facility maintenance tax deduction' on your shared LLC. If the state audits Vance Properties, you aren't just an investor, Julian. You are legally named as a co-managing member. You will go to prison right alongside her."
A heavy, breathless silence filled the line.
"She... Mom told me those transfers were for property insurance," Julian stammered, his bravado entirely evaporated.
"Mom lied to you, Julian," I said softly. "Just like she lied when she told the family that I was the one who initiated the violence last night. I’ve attached Kelly’s video to that same email. Watch how your brother holds my arms while your mother hits a two-year-old child."
I didn't wait for him to respond. I ended the call.
Sarah Miller leaned back in her leather chair across from me, a slow, approving smile spreading across her face. "You didn't just plan a divorce, Jessi. You built a landmine and let them march right onto it."
"They spent four years treating me like an unpaid housekeeper who was lucky to be associated with their 'prestigious' family name," I said, opening my laptop to check the docket status. "They forgot that I was the one who organized their lives."
"The temporary emergency custody hearing is set for tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM," Sarah said, pointing to the court summons on her desk. "Wendy’s attorney has already filed a cross-motion claiming you are mentally unstable and seeking full emergency custody for Luca and Wendy."
"On what grounds?" I laughed bitterly.
"They claim you have a history of unprovoked rage and that you are attempting to alienate the child from her paternal grandmother," Sarah said, sliding a document toward me. "They even included a signed affidavit from Luca stating that Wendy’s slap was 'a gentle corrective tap' meant to prevent Fiona from choking on a piece of hard candy."
I stared at the affidavit. Luca’s handwriting was right there at the bottom, his neat signature swearing under penalty of perjury that his mother was merely trying to save our daughter from choking.
A cold, dark knot tightened in my chest.
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He wasn't just defending his mother anymore. He was actively committing perjury to help his mother take my child away from me.
"Good," I whispered, my eyes burning with a dark, terrifying resolve. "Let them present that affidavit under oath tomorrow morning. Because I have three more gifts for the judge."
