Chapter 8 - THE SHATTERED ALLIANCE
Back at a cheap, extended-stay motel on the outskirts of Columbus, Kelsey Vance sat on a stained floral bedspread, staring blankly at her phone screen as her credit cards were declined one by one with a sharp, robotic beep.
The twenty-four-year-old gold-digger who had laughed as I was shoved onto the porch was now stranded without a dime, her designer clothes packed into two plastic garbage bags, her high-society friends having blocked her number the moment the news alerts hit social media regarding the Hale-Mercer fraud indictments.
She picked up her phone with trembling fingers and dialed Viktor Thorne, a high-priced divorce attorney she had consulted secretly last month just in case Richard’s real estate empire went under.
The line rang four times before a cold, professional assistant answered.
“This is Mr. Thorne’s office. How may I direct your call?”
“Yes, this is Kelsey Hale. I need to retain Mr. Thorne immediately for emergency spousal support litigation against Richard Hale.”
There was a long, excruciating pause on the other end of the line.
May you like
“Mrs. Hale,” the assistant said, her voice dripping with clinical pity. “Mr. Thorne’s office was retained this morning by the federal bankruptcy trustee representing the Hale estate. Furthermore, our records indicate that your prenuptial agreement, signed two years ago, explicitly forfeits all claims to spousal support in the event of criminal fraud convictions.”
Kelsey’s phone slipped from her fingers, clattering against the cheap laminate nightstand. The screen went black, mirroring the absolute emptiness of the trap she had helped design, and into which she had ultimately fallen alongside my father.
