Chapter 7 - The Interrogation at the Coffee Shop
Two days later, the crisp afternoon air stung my cheeks as I stepped into a quiet, out-of-the-way café near Columbus Circle. I had arranged a discreet meeting with Bridget Ames. She had called my burner phone late the previous evening, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and bitter resentment. She had finally realized that the glamorous future Hail promised her—the penthouse apartments, the society galas, the polished partner's wife status—was nothing more than a carefully constructed house of cards built on lies and exploitation.
Bridget sat at a secluded corner booth, her coat clutched tightly around her, looking a shell of the radiant woman I had seen outside the deli weeks earlier. When I slid into the opposite seat, she didn't waste time with pleasantries. "He lied to me, Philippa," she whispered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "He told me you two had been separated for years, that the divorce was just a formality awaiting paperwork. He swore he was going to marry me the moment he made senior equity partner." I listened with an impassive expression, watching the raw realization of betrayal wash over her. I didn't offer empty comfort, but I offered something far more valuable: absolute clarity. I slid a folder across the table containing copies of Hail's financial disclosures and hidden accounts. "If you want to protect yourself and your child, Bridget, stop covering for him," I said quietly. "Hail isn't loyal to you, and he certainly isn't loyal to the firm. He is only loyal to himself. If you cooperate with my legal team and hand over the communication logs you have, you might salvage your own career before his ship goes down completely."
