Chapter 7 - The Settlement Table
Two weeks later, the conference room at Vance Global’s legal headquarters looked less like a negotiation table and more like a tribunal.
The room was paneled in dark mahogany, illuminated by soft recessed lighting and tall windows overlooking the San Francisco bay. Seated across the long table were two court-appointed public defenders representing Jason and Chelsea, both of whom looked entirely overwhelmed by the mountain of forensic evidence stacked before them.
At the head of the table sat my father, Commissioner Potter, alongside my cousin Marcus and our lead family-law and corporate-fraud attorney, Katherine Vance-Montgomery.
I sat quietly near the center, reviewing the final dissolution and asset forfeiture agreement.
The door opened, and Jason and Chelsea were led in by corrections officers. They were both dressed in standard county jail uniforms, their hair unwashed, their spirits thoroughly broken. They had spent the last fourteen days in adjoining holding pods, listening to their respective legal teams explain the inescapable reality of their situation.
Jason shuffled to his chair, staring fixedly at the polished wood table. He didn't dare look up at me, nor did he glance at Chelsea, who sat two seats down from him, glaring at the wall with dead, hollow eyes.
“Let’s get straight to business,” Attorney Katherine Vance-Montgomery announced crisply, opening her leather portfolio. “We are here to finalize the consent decrees for State versus Sullivan and State versus Monroe, as well as the complete civil dissolution of marriage and asset forfeiture.”
Katherine slid two thick packets of paper across the table.
“Mr. Sullivan,” Katherine continued, addressing Jason directly. “Under the terms of this agreement, you will plead guilty to corporate fraud, embezzlement of operational funds, and breach of fiduciary duty. In exchange, the prosecution will recommend a sentence of four years in federal penitentiary, rather than the maximum seven.”
Jason’s hands shook violently as he flipped through the pages. “Four years... but... what about my assets? What about my shares in NexusSphere?”
“You have zero shares in NexusSphere, Mr. Sullivan,” Marcus interjected coldly from across the table. “NexusSphere Technologies was legally dissolved by its primary lienholder—Vance Global—twelve days ago. The intellectual property has been absorbed into our parent portfolio, and your personal bank accounts, vehicles, and credit lines have been seized as full restitution for fraudulent misrepresentation.”
Jason choked back a sob, his head dropping into his hands. “I’m ruined... I have nothing left.”
“You have your freedom after four years, Mr. Sullivan,” my father said, his deep, commanding voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Which is significantly more mercy than you or your accomplice showed my pregnant daughter when you terrorized her and threatened her unborn child.”
Chelsea whipped her head around, glaring at Jason with unbridled fury. “You promised me we’d be rich! You promised me you’d divorce her and we’d take over the company! You lied to me about everything!”
“Shut up, you psycho!” Jason screamed, slamming his cuffed hands onto the table. “If you hadn't gone on a lunatic rampage through the parking garage like a raging hoodlum, none of this would have happened!”
“Order in this room!” Commissioner Potter barked, slamming his palm onto the table with a sound that rattled the crystal water pitchers.
Both defendants shrank back instantly, terrorized by the sheer weight of authority in my father’s presence.
Katherine slid the final document across the table toward me.
It was the divorce decree. Absolute custody of our unborn daughter—awarded entirely to me, with zero visitation rights granted to Jason until a court-ordered psychological evaluation and supervised rehabilitation review were completed in five years.
I picked up a heavy gold-plated fountain pen—a gift from my father on my eighteenth birthday—and signed my name at the bottom of the page in sharp, clean strokes: Chloe Potter-Vance.
May you like
I closed the pen with a satisfying click.
“It’s done,” I said softly.
