Chapter 6 - The Escalation
The air in Pendelton's office turned to ice.
"She's planning to flee?" I asked, my voice cracking with desperation. "She's seven months pregnant!"
"A private medical plane can easily fly a pregnant woman to a non-extradition country like Dubai or Monaco," Pendelton pointed out coldly. "She has the resources to purchase a new life overnight. Once she leaves U.S. soil, you will never see your son again, Mark. And you will never see justice for your father."
"What do I need to do?" I asked, standing up, determination replacing my shock.
"We need proof that she is actively liquidating those stolen assets," Pendelton said. "The documents your mother found in the kitchen were just the tip of the iceberg. Sarah keeps a primary safe inside your house. In that safe is the hard drive containing the original master keys for her offshore trust. If we get that hard drive, the FBI can freeze her accounts instantly and issue an international travel ban."
"I know where the safe is," I said immediately. "It's built into the wall behind the bookshelf in my home office. But I don't know the combination."
"Then you need to find it," Pendelton said. "And you need to act fast. She knows your mother saw those papers. She knows you know something is wrong. She won't stay in that house for long."
I thanked Pendelton, took the legal folder, and drove straight back to my suburban home. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white.
When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed a sleek black private sedan parked in front of the garage. I parked my SUV behind it, blocking it in, and strode up the front path.
I unlocked the front door and pushed it open.
The house was chaotic. Wardrobe trunks were lined up in the hallway. Down the hall, in the dining room, Sarah was speaking frantically on the phone in a quiet, harsh whisper. Standing beside her was an imposing man in a tailored grey suit—a man I had never seen before.
"...I don't care about the penalty fees, just move the funds by 5 PM!" Sarah was snapping into the phone. She slammed her phone down on the mahogany dining table and turned around, freezing as she saw me standing in the foyer.
The man in the grey suit immediately stepped between Sarah and me, resting his hand casually inside his suit jacket.
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, stepping into the room.
"Mark, meet Julian Croft," Sarah said, a dark, cynical smile gracing her lips. "He's my security detail. And my personal legal council."
"Get out of my house, Croft," I commanded.
"Mr. Vance," Croft said in a deep, gravelly voice. "I suggest you calm down. Mrs. Vance is under severe emotional distress due to your erratic behavior over the past twenty-four hours. She is preparing to travel to a private clinic for rest."
"A private clinic?" I scoffed bitterly. "You mean a private jet to Europe with stolen money."
Sarah's eyes narrowed into slits. "You've been talking to someone. Who did you talk to, Mark? Was it that old wash-up Pendelton?"
"I know everything, Sarah," I said, stepping closer despite Croft's intimidating presence. "I know about your father's syndicate. I know about the forged patent transfers. I know about the offshore trust in the Caymans. And I know you married me just to protect yourself from federal prosecution."
Sarah let out a sharp, mocking laugh that sent chills down my spine. The gentle, sweet woman I had courted for years was entirely gone, replaced by a ruthless corporate predator.
"So what if I did?" Sarah snarled, stepping around Croft to face me directly. "What are you going to do about it, Mark? Go to the police? With what? A bunch of old paper copies your senile mother stole from my lockbox? I have the top defense attorneys in the country on retainer. You're a middle-class architect with a small design firm that I funded!"
"I will stop you, Sarah," I said through gritted teeth. "You are not taking my son out of this country."
"Theodore is MY baby!" Sarah shrieked, her face twisting with rage as she slapped her hand onto her stomach. "He is inside MY body! You have no say over where I go or what I do! You were useful to me, Mark, but now you're just an obstacle!"
"Mr. Vance," Croft interrupted, pulling a sleek leather binder from his briefcase and placing it on the table. "This is a formal legal separation agreement. Mrs. Vance is granting you full ownership of this house and a cash settlement of two million dollars. In exchange, you will sign over all claims to her family trusts and agree to a private custody arrangement overseas."
I looked down at the contract on the table, then up at Sarah. "Two million dollars to sell out my father's memory and surrender my son to a criminal?"
I grabbed the separation contract, tore it in half, and threw the pieces into Sarah's face.
"I'm not signing anything," I declared coldly. "And you're not leaving this house with my son."
Sarah's eyes burned with psychotic hatred. She turned to Croft. "Julian. Get him out of my sight. Throw him out."
Croft stepped forward, his massive frame towering over me. "You heard the lady, Mr. Vance. Step outside."
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"This is my property," I said, holding my ground.
Croft grabbed my collar with an iron grip and shoved me hard against the entryway wall. "Not anymore, kid."
