Chapter 7 - The Ice Inside
|
At eight o'clock the next morning, while Dylan was at his corporate office basking in the praise of his board members, I walked into a high-rise office building in the financial district.
The sign on the frosted glass doors read: Thorne & Associates – High-Net-Worth Matrimonial & Asset Protection.
Julian Thorne, one of the most feared divorce attorneys in the state, sat behind a massive black marble desk. He was a man in his late fifties with sharp gray eyes and a reputation for stripping corrupt husbands down to their last dime.
"Mrs. Vance," Julian said, sliding a steaming cup of black coffee across the desk toward me. "Your message sounded urgent. How can I help you?"
I set my leather briefcase on his desk, opened it, and pulled out a stack of documents, alongside my phone containing the cloud files.
"I want a divorce, Mr. Thorne," I said, my voice completely steady. "And I want complete, sole physical and legal custody of my daughter, Haley."
Julian picked up his pen, clicking it once. "Divorce among high-profile couples can get messy, especially given your husband's recent corporate publicity. Is there infidelity involved?"
I slid my phone across the desk, showing him the photograph from the yacht, along with the date stamp and the handwritten inscription.
Julian’s eyes sharpened as he examined the image. "This shows long-term emotional and physical infidelity predating the current timeline. Do you have financial evidence?"
"I started pulling our joint tax records and personal account summaries yesterday," I said, leaning forward. "Dylan handles the primary investments for Vance Capital, but I have full legal access to our family trust accounts. Three months ago, $500,000 was transferred from our private liquidity fund into a shell company registered under the name Lumina Design LLC."
"And who owns Lumina Design?" Julian asked, a cold smile touching his lips.
"Sierra Miller," I answered cleanly. "My husband has been using our family capital to fund his ex-fiancée's lifestyle while setting up offshore holdings."
Julian leaned back in his leather chair, tapping his pen against his chin. "Your husband made a public spectacle of abandoning you and your injured child to save this woman's son. The media considers him a hero right now."
"Then we will let him enjoy his spotlight a little longer," I replied, my voice dropping an octave. "Because the higher he climbs on that fake pedestal, the harder he is going to hit the concrete when I pull the rug out from under him."
Julian looked at me for a long moment, a look of profound respect washing over his hardened face.
May you like
"What is your timeline, Mrs. Vance?"
"He's hosting a national charity gala in ten days to honor his own 'heroism,'" I said softly. "I want the papers drawn up, the financial freezes pre-authorized, and the custody petitions locked. When he steps up to that podium, I want his entire world to end."
