Chapter 6 - The Broken Mistress
By Wednesday afternoon, the walls began collapsing in every direction around Vanessa Cross.
Released on bond from the county jail with an ankle monitor strapped to her leg, she returned to her luxury apartment in the French Quarter to find two uniformed sheriff's deputies standing outside her door.
A large red legal notice was posted across the deadbolt:
WRIT OF EVICTION AND SEIZURE OF PREMISES.
Vanessa dropped her purse onto the hallway carpet, her hands shaking violently.
"What is this? Derek Whitmore pays for this lease! You can't lock me out!"
"Mr. Whitmore's corporate accounts have been frozen by federal order, ma'am," the deputy replied with total indifference.
"The primary leaseholder, Bennett Maritime Trust, has terminated the tenancy for non-payment and unauthorized occupancy. You have one hour to remove your personal clothing."
Before Vanessa could scream, a black town car pulled up to the private drop-off lane below.
Michael Grant and I stepped out, flanked by our private investigator, Frank Delgato.
Vanessa saw us through the glass lobby doors, storming out into the courtyard with her eyes blazing with desperate rage.
"You!" she shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at my swollen belly.
"You ruined everything! Derek promised me this apartment! He promised me he was divorcing you this month!"
"Derek promised you a life built on stolen money, Vanessa," I said quietly, remaining seated on a stone bench in the shaded garden.
"He used you as a weapon against me, and now that the weapon has backfired, he won't even answer your calls."
Vanessa’s expression cracked, a look of hollow, terrified realization dawning on her pale face.
"He... he wouldn't abandon me," she stammered, pulling out her phone with trembling fingers.
"I'm carrying his child! He loves me!"
Frank Delgato stepped forward, sliding a crisp white envelope into her hands.
"If that child is Derek's, Miss Cross, you will need to establish paternity through court-ordered amniocentesis after birth," Frank said coldly.
"Because according to the telephone records we pulled from Derek's burner device, he booked a one-way ticket to Costa Rica this morning at six a.m."
Vanessa gasped, dropping the envelope onto the stone pavers as her knees buckled.
"Costa Rica? No... he told me he was meeting his lawyers in Atlanta!"
"Derek Whitmore cares about exactly one person in this world, Vanessa: Derek Whitmore," I told her, looking at her with genuine, sorrowful pity.
"He left me to be assaulted while holding our son. Did you really believe he would stay to protect you when the prison doors started opening?"
Vanessa slumped onto the edge of the stone fountain, burying her face in her hands, her sobs echoing through the empty courtyard.
The diamond bracelet Derek had stolen from my dresser lay on the marble table inside the evidence locker at the police department.
Her luxury apartment was gone.
Her lover had abandoned her before the sun had even fully risen.
May you like
I stood up slowly, leaning on Michael’s arm, and turned back toward the car.
There was no joy in watching another woman's ruin, but justice had finally arrived, and it was entirely without mercy.
