Chapter 5 - The Insolvency of Garrick Carter
By three o'clock on Friday afternoon, the Maricopa County Booking Facility was humid, smelling faintly of floor wax, stale coffee, and industrial disinfectant.
Garrick sat in an interview room on the second floor, wearing a oversized blue county holding jumpsuit. His hands were uncuffed, but he sat slouched in his chair, his head resting in his palms, staring at the scarred wooden table.
Sitting across from him was his personal defense attorney, an overly expensive lawyer named Julian Vance-Smythe (who was rapidly regretting taking the case).
"Julian, just post the damn bail!" Garrick pleaded, his voice hoarse from shouting at the booking officers for six hours. "Set up the bond transfer through my Chase Premier account! It's fifty thousand dollars! I have two hundred thousand in liquidity!"
Julian sighed, pulling his wire-rimmed glasses off his face and rubbing his eyes. "Garrick... I tried to initiate the transfer two hours ago."
Garrick frowned. "And?"
"The transaction was rejected by the federal banking clearinghouse," Julian stated flatly. "Every single liquid account bearing your social security number has been placed under a emergency freeze by order of the Family Court under the Marital Asset Preservation Act. You don't have two hundred thousand dollars, Garrick. You don't even have fifty dollars."
Garrick's breath hitched. "What about my corporate stock options at Apex?"
"Terminated upon your dismissal for cause," Julian replied. "And because the purchase of the Paradise Valley house and the Cadillac Escalade were funded entirely through certified wires from your wife's pre-marital trust, your legal team cannot claim any equity stake in those primary assets."
"What about Vanessa?!" Garrick yelled, slamming his open hand against the wooden table. "Her father owns a regional development firm! Call her! Tell her to post my bail!"
Julian let out a short, pitying laugh.
"Miss Reed was evicted from the Paradise Valley property at eight AM," Julian said, opening a file folder. "She spent four hours at her father's corporate office attempting to secure a loan for your legal retainer. When her father learned that your connection to the Vance Family Trust had been completely severed—and that his company's pending subcontracting bid with Apex Global had been canceled due to your arrest—he revoked her access to her trust fund and ordered her to return to Chicago immediately."
Garrick sat frozen in his chair, his face completely drained of color. "She... she left?"
"She caught the one-thirty flight to O'Hare," Julian confirmed smoothly. "She left a message with my paralegal for you."
Garrick leaned forward, a tiny, foolish spark of hope flickering in his eyes. "What message?"
"She said, and I quote: 'Don't ever contact me again, you pathetic fraud.'"
The small interview room fell into an absolute, suffocating silence.
Garrick stared at the scarred wooden table, his chest moving in shallow, rapid gasps as the terrifying, absolute weight of his reality finally crushed him.
He had no money. He had no car. He had no house. He had no job. He had no mistress. He had no high-society friends.
Everything he had possessed—every suit in his closet, every bottle of whiskey in his cabinet, every handshake from powerful men at the country club—had been built on the quiet, generous foundation of the woman he had kicked onto the pavement eighteen hours ago.
"Julian..." Garrick whispered, tears finally leaking down his sunken cheeks. "What... what am I going to do?"
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Julian closed his briefcase with a loud, metallic click, stood up from his chair, and adjusted his silk tie.
"If I were you, Mr. Carter," Julian said coldly, "I would start preparing to spend the next three to five years in state prison. Because your wife isn't offering a settlement... and her father's security director is sitting in the hallway outside this room right now."
