Chapter 11 - The Rat Ship
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The three defense attorneys sitting behind Evan and his parents immediately leaned together, whispering in rapid, panicked tones.
Evan reached across the mahogany table, his hand trembling violently as he tried to touch my arm.
“Claire... please,” he sobbed, tears finally pouring down his cheeks. “I love you. You know I love you. We can start over! We can sell everything, give the money back, and leave the city! Just don't do this to us!”
I looked down at his outstretched hand, then looked back up into his bloodshot eyes.
“You didn't love me, Evan,” I said softly, without a shred of hatred left in my voice—only absolute clarity. “You loved having access to my inheritance. You loved having access to my mind. And you loved pretending that you were a genius while I did all the work in the dark.”
His hand fell back onto the table, lifeless.
“What do you want from me?” Evan cracked, his shoulders slumping completely. “What do you want?”
“A divorce,” I said simply. “And a full, unconditional guilty plea on all criminal counts.”
Diane burst into fresh, noisy tears, grabbing her husband’s sleeve. “Richard! Do something! Talk to her! She’s going to send us to prison!”
Richard didn't move. He didn't yell. He didn't kick. He just sat there, staring at the polished table, completely defeated. He knew, as his lawyers were currently whispering into his ear, that the foyer video alone was enough to guarantee a conviction for aggravated assault and extortion.
Combined with the ironclad digital paper trail of missing millions, there was no defense left to make.
I picked up my crutches, pushed my chair back, and stood up smoothly.
I looked down at the three of them one last time.
“The federal prosecutors will be in touch with your attorneys by four o'clock,” I said quietly. “Have a good afternoon.”
May you like
I turned my back on them, slipped my crutches under my arms, and walked out of the conference room.
Behind me, the sound of Evan sobbing echoing through the glass walls was the last thing I heard.
