Chapter 8 - Desperate Moves
Two days later, the storm had passed, but the aftermath was absolute destruction for the Vance family.
Owen’s consulting firm had folded overnight after his primary clients withdrew their contracts upon hearing the news of the fraud investigation. Lorraine’s home was locked under federal seizure, and both of them were forced to move into a tiny, cramped motel on the outskirts of the city while awaiting their grand jury indictment.
I was at my grandmother’s old apartment, packing up the remaining photo albums to move them to my father’s main estate.
A loud, frantic pounding rattled the front door.
I looked through the peephole. It was Owen.
He looked unkempt, his hair messy, his suit wrinkled, dark circles under his hollow eyes. The smooth, handsome front was completely destroyed.
I opened the door, keeping the heavy brass security chain engaged.
"Mara! Please!" Owen begged, pressing his hands against the doorframe. "You have to talk to me! You have to stop your father's lawyers! They've frozen my bank accounts! My mother is having a nervous breakdown in a cheap motel!"
I looked at him through the narrow opening, my expression entirely impassive. "You brought this on yourself, Owen."
"I was stupid! I was greedy! My mother pushed me into it!" Owen cried out, trying to pass the blame. "She was the one who insisted on the Savannah plan! She was the one who hated that your family seemed modest! I loved you, Mara! I really did!"
I let out a soft, bitter laugh. "You loved my potential equity, Owen. You loved the idea of a girl who wouldn't fight back. You stood on speakerphone on our wedding night and called my father a nobody while plotting to leave me penniless."
"I was wrong!" he sobbed, tears cutting through the grime on his face. "Please, Mara. Ask your dad to drop the fraud charges. Give my mother her house back. We'll leave the state! You'll never see us again!"
"It's out of my hands, Owen," I said smoothly. "The State Prosecutor has the audio. The IRS has your tax records. You built your life on lies, and now the weight of those lies is crushing you."
"You're a heartless bitch!" Owen suddenly screamed, his face twisting into pure rage as his pathetic plea failed. He slammed his fist against the wooden door. "You pretended to be innocent! You led us right into this!"
I leaned closer to the gap in the door, my eyes flashing with dangerous, unbroken strength.
"I didn't lead you anywhere, Owen," I whispered softly. "I just stood back and let you jump into the pit you dug for me. Goodbye, Owen."
I closed the door in his face and slammed the heavy deadbolt into place.
May you like
Through the window, I watched as two police cruisers pulled up to the curb. Detective Vance—no relation to Owen, ironically—stepped out, pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and arrested Owen right on the sidewalk for breaking his temporary restraining order.
I turned back to the quiet room, picked up my grandmother's photograph, and smiled.
