CHAPTER 3: THE RAT IN THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY'S OFFICE
By Friday morning, the rain had stopped, leaving Chicago covered in a cold, metallic fog.
I spent the night in the executive suite, sleeping for a solid, dreamless eight hours. For the first time in four years, I didn't wake up with a tight, suffocating knot of anxiety in my stomach. I didn't have to worry about what mood Celia would be in, or what passive-aggressive comment Martin would make about my existence.
At 9:00 AM, my attorney, a ruthless, brilliant family law specialist named Olivia Mercer, arrived at my suite. She set a thick manila folder on my desk.
"Martin’s office has been calling my firm every twenty minutes since seven this morning," Olivia said, a small, predatory smile touching her lips. "He tried to file an emergency injunction to block me from representing you, claiming a conflict of interest because my firm once handled a minor real estate contract for his father ten years ago. The judge threw it out within five minutes."
"How is he handling it?" I asked, pouring her a cup of black coffee.
"He's panicking, Clara," Olivia replied, leaning back in her chair. "He still thinks this is a standard marital dispute. He sent over a temporary settlement offer. He's willing to let you keep the downtown commercial property entirely, and he'll give you a lump sum of five hundred thousand dollars if you sign a non-disclosure agreement regarding 'family matters' and agree to marriage counseling."
I laughed. It was a genuine, dark sound. "He honestly thinks he can still buy my silence. He thinks this is about my grandfather's property."
"He doesn't know about the FBI yet," Olivia noted, her eyes turning serious. "The federal petition for your immunity framework was finalized an hour ago. You are officially locked in as a protected whistleblower. The moment the grand jury reviews the flash drives you provided, Martin and his mother are going down. But you need to be careful. Martin still has significant influence within the local police departments and the DA's office."
"Not for long," I said.
My phone buzzed on the desk. It was an unrecognized local number. I picked it up, pressing it to my ear without speaking.
"Clara? Clara, listen to me," Martin's voice came through the speaker, breathless and strained. The usual smooth, aristocratic cadence he used for television interviews was completely gone. He sounded like a man trapped in a burning building. "Where the hell are you? My mother is hysterical. She claims you physically threatened her yesterday. You need to come home right now so we can handle this before it gets into the press."
"Your mother tried to strike me, Martin," I said, my voice completely devoid of inflection. "And you stood there and watched."
"She's an old woman, Clara! She was upset!" he yelled, his temper finally fracturing. "You can't just destroy my career over an argument in a kitchen! Do you have any idea what the press will do with a divorce filing right before the state senate primary? You are ruining my life!"
"You ruined your own life the moment you forged my name on the Voss Endowment compliance sheets, Martin," I said softly.
The line went completely silent. The only sound was the heavy, ragged breathing of my husband through the digital connection. The realization of what I actually knew was finally crashing through his thick skull.
"What... what are you talking about?" he stammered, his voice dropping into a terrified whisper. "Clara, whatever you think you found, it’s not what it looks like. Let me explain. Let’s sit down with my mother's lawyers. We can protect you."
"You never protected me," I said. "You set me up to take the fall for your mother's greed. But I've already spent the morning with Special Agent Miller. The FBI is executing a search warrant on the endowment's offices in twenty minutes, Martin. I suggest you find a very good criminal defense attorney. You're going to need one."
"Clara, wait! Don't do this—"
I hung up the phone. I pulled the battery out of the burner, tossed it into a disposal bin, and looked at Olivia.
"It's time," I said.
Olivia nodded, picking up her briefcase. "The divorce filing is being stamped at the courthouse right now. By noon, the public record will show that Clara Vance has filed for absolute dissolution of marriage on the grounds of irreconcilable differences and systemic financial fraud. The Voss family name is officially toxic."
May you like
As she walked out, I turned back to my computer screen. I watched the live financial tickers for Midwest Green Energy and its affiliated subsidiaries. The moment the federal raid on the Voss Endowment was logged into the system, the market would react.
But more importantly, the illusion of the unassailable, aristocratic Voss family was about to be obliterated in front of the entire city. And they would never see me again.
