Chapter 8: The Viper’s Desperation
Chapter 8: The Viper’s Desperation
While Julian and I built our fortress of evidence, Matthew was learning what life was like without a Sterling backing him. In Rikers Island, he wasn't a tech billionaire; he was just inmate number 44192.
But a cornered rat is always the most vicious.
A week before the preliminary hearing, my phone buzzed with an unknown number. Against my better judgment, I answered it.
"Clare... please, don't hang up," Matthew’s voice rasped through the line. He sounded broken, hollow, entirely stripped of his previous Manhattan polish. "You have to stop this. Your father’s lawyers are destroying everything. Lauren has already turned on me! She’s telling the feds it was all my idea!"
I leaned back in my office chair, looking out over the city. "It was your idea, Matthew. You held the cane. You signed the offshore transfers."
"I was stressed, Clare! The pressure of the Series C funding—"
"Do not talk to me about pressure," I interrupted, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I built the foundation you stood on. You thought because my father cut me off, I was unprotected. You forgot that a Sterling is a Sterling, even in exile."
"If you go through with this trial, I’ll ruin you," he hissed, his desperation turning back into venom. "I have photos, Clare. Emails. I’ll drag your name through the mud. I’ll tell the press you were unstable, that you forced me to hit you—"
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"Goodbye, Matthew," I said calmly.
I hung up the phone and immediately forwarded the recorded call to Julian Vance. Violation of an order of protection while awaiting trial. Another nail in his coffin.
