Chapter 7 - The Greenwich Townhouse
That afternoon, I directed my driver to stop outside the luxury brick townhouse in Greenwich that Daniel had leased for his mistress.
The moving vans were already parked along the curb, their ramps extended as federal marshals oversaw the inventory of seized luxury goods.
Standing on the front porch, wrapped in an oversized trench coat, was Evelyn Cross.
Her designer sunglasses were pushed up onto her forehead, revealing tired, puffy eyes and dark circles from seventy-two hours of federal depositions.
When she saw my town car pull up to the curb, she froze, clutching a cardboard box filled with baby clothes.
I stepped out of the car, walking slowly up the flagstone walkway through the light snow flurries.
Evelyn didn't run.
She stood on the porch, her head bowed in deep, humiliating defeat.
"Claire," Evelyn whispered, her voice trembling in the cold wind. "I know you hate me."
"I don't hate you, Evelyn," I said, stopping three steps below her. "Hate requires respect, and I don't respect anyone who helps a man rob his own employees."
Evelyn flinched, looking down at the box of baby clothes in her arms.
"He told me he was getting a divorce anyway," Evelyn stammered, tears spilling over her lashes. "He said you were cold, that you didn't understand business. He promised my son would have everything."
"Daniel used your son's DNA to execute a fraudulent lab report, Evelyn," I reminded her gently. "He used your baby as a prop to try and destroy mine."
Evelyn covered her mouth, letting out a ragged sob.
"I know," she wept. "When the agents played the recording of him laughing about the prenuptial trap, I wanted to die. I was so stupid. I threw away my entire career for a man who looked at me like a money-laundering receipt."
I looked at the young woman standing on the porch of the seized townhouse.
She was twenty-six years old, facing three years of federal probation, her reputation permanently scorched in the corporate world.
"The federal trustees have agreed to leave your private savings account untouched, Evelyn," I said quietly. "Arthur Bennett confirmed that the sixty thousand dollars you earned as a legitimate salary is yours to keep."
Evelyn looked up, stunned, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Why would you do that?" she whispered. "After everything I helped Daniel do to you?"
"Because your six-month-old boy didn't ask to be born into Daniel’s circus," I answered, pulling my coat tighter against the winter chill. "Use that money to get an honest job, take care of your son, and never come near my family again."
Evelyn broke down completely, dropping to her knees on the cold porch, sobbing her gratitude into the winter air.
May you like
I didn't stay to watch her cry.
I turned back toward my car, leaving the wreckage of Daniel’s double life behind on the snow-covered street.
