Chapter 9 - The Settlement with Vanessa
Two weeks later.
The private consultation room at the law offices of Vance, Sterling & Croft was silent except for the low hum of the air conditioner.
Vanessa Reed sat across from me at the marble table.
She looked much smaller than she had in the St. Regis ballroom. She wore a simple dark blue maternity dress, no makeup, her hair pulled back into a quick pony tail. Her fingers were bare; the three-carat diamond ring Harrison had bought her with stolen corporate funds had been seized by the court receiver eight days ago.
Beside her sat a young legal aid attorney who looked like he hadn't slept since passing the bar exam.
“Mrs. Cole,” the attorney began nervously, clearing his throat. “My client... Miss Reed... wants to emphasize that she had no knowledge of the origin of the funds used for her personal expenses or her medical care. She was under the impression that Mr. Cole was using his personal dividend distributions.”
I didn't look at the attorney. I looked at Vanessa.
“Do you have three million dollars, Vanessa?” I asked softly.
Vanessa flinched. “What?”
“The SEC is seeking joint civil disgorgement for all third-party beneficiaries of the Apex Holdings transfers,” I explained, sliding a single sheet of paper across the table. “That includes the lease on your apartment in Soho, the car payments on the Audi, the jewelry, and the direct cash transfers made to your mother’s account in Florida. The total comes to two million, eight hundred thousand dollars.”
Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears—real tears this time, thin and silent, running down her pale cheeks.
“I don't have it,” she whispered. “I have twelve thousand dollars in my savings account. My apartment... the landlord served an eviction notice three days ago. Harrison... Harrison won't even answer my letters from the detention center.”
“Harrison is busy, Vanessa,” I said. “He’s currently negotiating a plea deal that involves eight years in a federal prison in New Jersey. He doesn't have time to worry about your rent.”
She covered her face with both hands, her shoulders shaking violently as she let out a small, muffled sob.
“I was stupid,” she cried into her hands. “He told me... he told me you were just waiting for the divorce... he told me you didn't care about him... he told me...”
“He told you what you needed to hear so you would make him feel like a king while he was ruining his life,” I said.
I picked up a pen from the desk.
“I am not going to let the SEC take your apartment, Vanessa,” I said.
Vanessa dropped her hands, her eyes wide with shock. “What?”
“The Trust has purchased the lease on your Soho apartment from the receiver,” I said, turning the page of the settlement document. “You can live there until the baby is born and through its first year. The medical bills for your delivery will be fully covered through a private educational trust established for the child.”
Vanessa stared at me as if I had spoken in a language she had never heard before.
“Why?” she choked out. “I... I helped him humiliate you. I took his side. I laughed at you at that party.”
“You didn't humiliate me, Vanessa,” I said, signing my name at the bottom of the page with a clean, smooth stroke. “Harrison humiliated himself. You were just a prop he used because he was too weak to face his own failure.”
I pushed the document toward her lawyer.
“The trust for the child will be managed independently by David Sterling,” I added. “Harrison will have no access to it, no authority over it, and no ability to use it as leverage. The child will have a life that isn't defined by its father’s mugshot.”
I stood up, taking my coat from the back of the chair.
Vanessa looked up at me, her mouth trembling, her hands clasped tightly over her stomach.
“Thank you, Claire,” she whispered.
May you like
I stopped near the door, my hand resting on the brass handle.
“Don't thank me, Vanessa,” I said without turning around. “Just make sure that when that child grows up... you teach them how to read the paperwork.”
