Chapter 5 - The Web Unravels
Desperation drove Ethan to make his most dangerous move yet. With his bank accounts frozen and his job hanging by a thread, he hired an unscrupulous private investigator to shadow Natalie, hoping to manufacture evidence of infidelity or emotional instability to tilt the divorce settlement in his favor.
Late one evening, as Natalie and Julian Vance were leaving a late-night planning meeting at the SoHo hotel site, flashes of light flickered from across the street. Julian immediately noticed the black sedan idling with tinted windows.
“Don’t look over there,” Julian warned softly, placing a protective hand gently on the small of Natalie’s back as they stepped onto the curb. “Someone is photographing us.”
Natalie felt an immediate wave of nausea, recognizing Ethan’s juvenile tactics. “He’s trying to claim I’m having an affair with you to counter his own infidelity.”
Julian chuckled softly, entirely unbothered. “He must be truly terrified if he’s resorting to cheap parlor tricks. Don’t worry. My aunt Eleanor eats private investigators for breakfast.”
The next morning, Ethan thought he had the upper hand. He stormed into Eleanor Vance’s conference room for a scheduled preliminary negotiation, accompanied by his attorney, smirking arrogantly as he tossed a folder of grainy photographs onto the mahogany table.
“Let’s see how the court looks at Natalie parading around town with another man while we are still legally married,” Ethan sneered, crossing his arms. “Abandonment of marital duties. Flaunting an illicit affair. I demand half of her design firm’s equity, and an immediate unfreezing of our joint accounts.”
Eleanor Vance didn't even flinch. She picked up the photographs, glanced at them with mild amusement, and slid them back.
“Mr. Carter,” Eleanor said, her voice dripping with ice. “The gentleman in these photographs is Julian Vance, my nephew and the lead architect on the Mercer Hotel project. Natalie was under an active contract for a business consultation, accompanied by three other junior associates who were conveniently cropped out of your pictures.”
Ethan’s face tightened. “That doesn't prove—”
“What it does prove,” Eleanor interrupted smoothly, “is that you violated the temporary restraining order regarding harassment and surveillance. Furthermore, while you were wasting money on an amateur detective, forensic accountants concluded their review of Apex Holdings LLC.”
Eleanor opened a thick leather binder. “You didn't just transfer marital funds, Ethan. You used confidential client data from your commercial firm to short-sell real estate assets, routing illegal profits through Claire Dalton’s offshore account. That is federal wire fraud.”
The color drained entirely from Ethan’s face. His own lawyer pulled his glasses off, looking at Ethan in sheer disbelief. “Ethan, you told me the shell company was strictly for tax shelters!”
“I... it was a misunderstanding,” Ethan stammered, his voice rising in panic.
“It is a federal crime,” Eleanor corrected him. “And at nine o’clock this morning, the Department of Justice received an anonymous tip with full documentation. Guess who sent it, Ethan?”
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Ethan stared blankly, horrified.
“Claire Dalton,” Eleanor revealed with a chilling smile. “She made a deal with her firm and federal prosecutors an hour ago. To save her own license, she handed over every single email, text, and transaction you ever sent her. You’re on your own.”
