Chapter 3 - The Counterattack
Vanessa stumbled backward and clutched her bruised wrist with a look of pure fury.
She screamed that she was going to sue the lawyer for aggravated assault.
The man calmly reached into his pocket and handed her a sleek black business card.
His name was Julian Vance, and he was infamous for destroying corrupt billionaires in federal court.
Julian coldly advised Vanessa to leave before he filed an immediate restraining order against her.
Vanessa glared at me and promised that this ugly war was far from over.
She climbed into her luxury SUV and sped recklessly out of the motel parking lot.
I pulled Julian into the tiny room and demanded to know who had hired him.
Julian simply smiled and said his wealthy client preferred to remain strictly anonymous for now.
He opened his leather briefcase and handed me a thick stack of financial documents.
He explained that Zachary had been running a massive illegal shell company using my identity.
If the government found out, I would be the one going to federal prison for massive tax fraud.
Zachary had planned to dump the blame on me while he and Vanessa ran off with the stolen millions.
I felt nauseous as the true, horrifying scale of his betrayal washed over me.
Julian told me we needed to freeze all of Zachary's assets before he could hide the cash.
He handed me a tablet and asked me to sign the emergency legal injunction forms.
I signed my name with shaking fingers, determined to protect my daughter at all costs.
Suddenly, a deafening crash echoed from the small bathroom of our motel room.
I rushed inside and found the frosted glass window completely shattered to pieces.
The cold morning wind was blowing into the room, scattering sharp glass across the tiles.
Chloe was awake and standing in the corner, clutching her teddy bear in silent terror.
Someone had thrown a heavy red brick right through the closed window.
I picked up the brick and saw a white envelope tightly taped to the side.
My hands trembled as I ripped the envelope open and unfolded the crisp paper inside.
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It was a high-resolution photograph of my sick mother sleeping peacefully in her bed.
A message written in blood-red marker on the back told me to drop the divorce or she would die.
