Chapter 4 - Shadows and Receipts
Robin sat down slowly, his fingers hovering over the glossy mugshot of the woman he had intended to marry in less than two months.
“Tabitha Renee Vane,” Robin read aloud, his voice barely a whisper. “Arrested in Florida... grand larceny, extortion, and credit card fraud. Charges dropped after a confidential civil settlement.”
“Look at the complainant’s name on page four,” I directed him.
Robin flipped the page. “Julian Sterling... the real estate developer from Palm Beach?”
“Julian Sterling was sixty-eight years old when Tabitha met him at a charity golf tournament,” I explained, leaning over the desk. “Within six months, they were engaged. Within eight months, Sterling had transferred three million dollars into a joint offshore account to ‘invest in her luxury interior design startup.’ Two weeks before the wedding, Sterling’s daughter discovered that Tabitha was secretly funneling the money to pay off her father’s legal debts and her own high-stakes gambling markers in Macao.”
Robin was shaking his head, his eyes wide. “When Sterling confronted her, what happened?”
“She did exactly what she is doing to us right now,” I replied coldly. “She claimed Sterling was suffering from dementia, accused his daughter of elder abuse, and threatened to release edited audio recordings that would ruin Sterling’s company stock value. Sterling’s family paid her two million dollars in cash just to sign a non-disclosure agreement and walk away quietly.”
“She’s a professional,” Robin breathed out, a terrible horror settling over him. “She targets wealthy families with public reputations to protect. Families who would rather pay her off than go through a messy public scandal.”
“Precisely,” I said. “She saw you—a kind, wealthy man who recently lost his father, running a major private investment firm, deeply devoted to his mother and his family’s charity. You were the perfect mark.”
Suddenly, the library door clicked open. Teresa stepped in, holding a small silver tray with a sealed envelope.
“Mrs. Harrington,” Teresa said nervously. “A courier just delivered this to the front gate. He said it was urgent.”
Robin took the envelope, tore it open, and pulled out a single sheet of heavy cream stationery.
It was written in Tabitha’s elegant, sweeping calligraphy:
Dear Robin and Eleanor,
Accidents happen when emotions run high. I am willing to oversee the immediate retraction of today’s press coverage and issue a public statement declaring the entire incident a ‘misunderstanding between family members.’
In exchange, I require the immediate transfer of five million dollars into a private trust account, along with the deed to the lake house in Aspen, as compensation for the emotional distress and reputational damage inflicted upon me today.
You have until 12:00 PM tomorrow to agree to these terms. If you refuse, the full video—including footage of Mrs. Harrington entering the home unlawfully and acting erratically—will be broadcast during the live evening news.
With warm regards, Tabitha
Robin crumpled the letter in his fist, his face flushed with pure fury. “She’s blackmailing us! She’s explicitly asking for money to bury the story!”
“She’s impatient,” I smiled, feeling a cold, sharp satisfaction rise within me. “Extortion is a federal crime, Robin. And Tabitha just put her demands in writing.”
“We take this straight to the District Attorney,” Robin said, reaching for his phone.
“Not yet,” I stopped him, pressing my hand over his phone. “The District Attorney will move slowly. They will file charges, there will be bail hearings, motion filings, and months of legal grandstanding while the press tears our family and our foundation apart. Tabitha wants a circus. We are not going to give her one.”
“Then what do we do?”
“We let her think her blackmail is working,” I said. “We invite her to settle this face-to-face.”
I looked at Teresa, who was standing by the door with her hands folded.
“Teresa,” I said warmly. “Is Luis still in the staff quarters?”
“Yes, Mrs. Harrington,” Teresa nodded instantly. “He’s so upset about what happened to you today. He said he wants to throw that bucket of water back in her face himself.”
“Tell Luis he won't need a bucket,” I smiled. “Tell him I need his help setting up the high-definition security feeds from the foyer, the driveway, and the drawing room. The feeds that Tabitha didn't know were recording on our cloud server the entire afternoon.”
Robin looked at me, a slow, understanding smile finally breaking through the dark cloud on his face.
May you like
“You have video?” Robin asked. “The whole thing?”
“Every single second,” I said softly. “From the moment she made Luis kneel on the floor, to the moment she poured that bucket over my head, to the moment she winked at her photographer waiting in the bushes outside.”
