Chapter 8 - The Desperate Strike
Three weeks later, the civil proceedings were finalized.
Because of the overwhelming evidence of criminal activity, fraud, and the airtight terms of our prenuptial agreement, the judge granted an immediate divorce. Julian received zero dollars from the marital estate, zero spousal support, and was ordered to pay three million dollars in restitution to Aurelia Systems.
It was a cold, rainy November evening when I walked out of the Vance Capital building toward my private garage bay. The streets of Boston were slick with rain, reflecting the neon glow of the city lights.
As I reached my car, a shadow detached itself from behind a concrete pillar.
“Audrey.”
I stopped, my hand resting near the silent alarm button on my key fob.
Julian stepped into the light. He looked gaunt, his collarbones visible beneath a cheap denim jacket he must have bought at a thrift store. He was out on personal recognizance bail while awaiting his criminal trial, barred from leaving the state.
“Julian,” I said neutrally. “You are violating the restraining order.”
“I don’t care anymore!” he choked out, his hands shaking as he held them out in a pathetic gesture of pleading. “I don’t care about the order, Audrey! Look at me! Look at what you’ve done to me!”
“I didn’t do this to you, Julian,” I said softly. “You chose every single step that brought you to this garage.”
“I made a mistake!” he sobbed, rain dripping from his chin. “I was foolish! I let Camilla and her father warp my mind! But I loved you, Audrey! I still love you!”
I stared at him, feeling no anger, no sadness—only a deep, profound emptiness.
“You didn’t love me, Julian,” I said quietly. “You loved the status my money gave you. You loved feeling superior to a woman you thought was weak. You loved the version of yourself that stood in expensive suits at parties.”
“Please,” he begged, dropping to his knees on the wet concrete floor, weeping openly. “Please, Audrey... ask the prosecutors to drop the federal charges. I can’t go to prison! I won’t survive in there! I’ll give you everything! I’ll work for you as a clerk! I’ll do anything!”
I looked down at the man who had once struck my shoulder in a ballroom full of people, whispering that another woman belonged beside him.
Now, he was kneeling in the dirt at my feet, begging for scraps of mercy from the woman he had tried to destroy.
“It’s out of my hands, Julian,” I said flatly. “The Department of Justice is prosecuting the case, not me.”
I pressed the button on my key fob. Two heavy-set security guards immediately emerged from the elevator bank behind me, moving quickly toward Julian.
“Get up, Mr. Vance,” one of the guards said, grabbing Julian by his arms and pulling him to his feet.
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“Audrey! Please!” Julian shrieked as he was dragged back toward the rain-swept street. “Audrey! Look at me!”
I got into the back seat of my car, closed the door, and looked out the tinted window as the vehicle pulled out into the night, leaving Julian behind in the dark.
