Chapter 3 - The Trap is Set
At two o'clock sharp, I stepped into the glass-walled executive suite on the top floor of the Vance Tower in downtown Manhattan.
The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and heavy cologne. Arthur Vance sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, his tailored suit flawless, his expression cold and triumphant. Beside him sat Luca, his right hand wrapped in a thick white medical cast, suspended in a sling. Sitting across from them were three high-priced corporate defense attorneys, their leather briefcases open, papers neatly arranged like weapons prepared for war.
"Look who decided to be reasonable," Arthur sneered, leaning back in his leather chair. "Sit down, Jessi."
"I prefer to stand," I replied evenly, resting my hands inside the pockets of my cream blazer.
Luca glinted at me with pure venom, his remaining good hand twitching on his armrest. "You ruined my hand, you psychotic bitch. My surgeon said I might never have full dexterity in those three fingers again. You're going to pay for every single second of pain."
The lead attorney pushed a thick document across the mahogany table toward me. "Mrs. Vance—or rather, Ms. Jessi—this is a comprehensive non-disclosure agreement, a full waiver of marital asset claims, and a formal admission of physical liability. You sign this, you relinquish all rights to the Vance estate, and Mr. Luca Vance agrees not to press criminal charges for your violent assault last night."
I didn't pick up the pen. I didn't even look at the paper.
"And what about Patricia?" I asked quietly.
Arthur let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. "My wife is currently receiving private medical treatment. Where she belongs. She won't be interfering in corporate matters ever again."
"She isn't at your private facility, Arthur," I corrected him smoothly. "She is currently in a federal safe house under twenty-four-hour witness protection."
The smiles instantly vanished from all five men's faces.
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"What nonsense are you talking about?" Arthur barked, his face darkening. "Security! Get this crazy woman out of my—"
"I wouldn't press that button if I were you," I interrupted, pulling my laptop out of my bag and opening it toward the attorneys. "Before I walked into this room, I transmitted a four-gigabyte forensic file directly to the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network and the Southern District of New York."
