Chapter 7 - The Mastermind
By Wednesday, the news of Daniel’s arrest had dominated the business section of every major newspaper in the state.
“Prominent Architect Arrested for Embezzlement in Bank Fraud Scheme,” the headlines read, accompanied by a humiliating front-page photograph of Daniel being led out of First National Bank in handcuffs, his hair wild and his suit disheveled.
I sat in Arthur Vance’s high-rise legal suite, watching the rain streak down the massive glass windows overlooking the harbor. On the marble table before us sat the finalized divorce decree and the settlement agreements.
“He’s done, Serena,” Arthur said, sliding a pen across the table to me. “The grand jury indicted him on three counts of wire fraud, two counts of attempted grand larceny, and one count of corporate embezzlement. His bail has been set at one million dollars, and because his personal assets are completely frozen due to the civil forfeiture filings, he can’t make bail.”
“Is he still in county jail?” I asked, holding the pen over the signature line.
“Yes,” Arthur smiled dryly. “He tried to call his mother to post bond using her house as collateral, but she refused after learning he had taken out a second mortgage on her property two years ago without her knowledge.”
I shook my head slowly. Daniel’s greed hadn't just target me; it was a disease that had consumed every relationship in his life.
“And the firm?” I asked.
“Richard Sterling and the board unanimously accepted your proposal,” Arthur reported, opening a secondary file. “In exchange for Harbor House injecting two million dollars from your investment trust to stabilize their operational payroll, Harbor House now owns fifty-one percent of Blake & Partners’ commercial holdings. You are now effectively his former partners' boss.”
I signed my name on the final line of the divorce papers: Serena Blake.
No longer Serena Blake-Ellis. No longer tied to his name, his debts, or his deceit.
“What about Camille?” I asked, capping the pen.
“She fled the city yesterday,” Arthur replied. “Packed her car and drove back to her parents’ home in Ohio. The District Attorney declined to file formal criminal charges against her for the incident at the gala, citing her cooperation in providing the evidence that brought down Daniel’s offshore accounts.”
“Good,” I said, standing up and pulling on my black trench coat. “Let her spend the rest of her life knowing she ruined her career for a man who ended up in a orange jumpsuit.”
“Are you going to see him?” Arthur asked gently, looking up from his desk. “Before they transfer him to the state penitentiary for trial?”
I paused at the door, my hand resting on the brass handle. “Yes, Arthur. I am. I have one last thing to deliver to him.”
An hour later, I walked through the heavy steel doors of the county detention center. The air inside smelled of bleach, stale coffee, and industrial floor wax.
I was escorted by a guard into a small, private visitation room divided by a thick pane of bulletproof glass.
Thirty seconds later, the door on the opposite side opened, and Daniel stepped inside.
He was wearing an oversized orange jumpsuit. His wrists were bound by steel handcuffs connected to a belly chain. He looked hollowed out—his cheekbones sharp, dark purple circles under his eyes, his hands trembling as he awkwardly pulled out the metal chair and sat down.
He picked up the black plastic phone receiver attached to the wall.
I picked up mine.
“Are you here to gloat?” Daniel’s voice came through the earpiece, thin, raspy, and completely broken.
“No, Daniel,” I said softly, looking at him through the glass. “I’m here to give you your mail.”
I pressed a single piece of paper against the glass.
It was a copy of the finalized divorce decree, stamped with the red wax seal of the State Supreme Court.
Daniel stared at the document, his lips quivering. “You took everything from me, Serena. My house, my firm, my reputation, my freedom... everything.”
“I didn't take anything that belonged to you, Daniel,” I corrected him, my voice steady and completely calm. “I simply took back what was mine. The house was paid for with my family’s money. The firm survived because of my credit line. Your reputation existed because I stood beside you and made people believe you were a good man.”
Tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his pale, unwashed cheeks. “I made a mistake, Serena... please... tell Arthur to talk to the DA. Tell them to drop the embezzlement charges. I can’t survive in here! You know I can’t!”
I looked at the man who had stood in a dressing room six days ago, holding a door handle while his mistress pulled my hair and ruined my dress. I remembered his cold, dismissive words: “Maybe now you’ll remember that family comes first.”
“Do you remember what you said to me when my dress was ruined, Daniel?” I asked gently.
He blinked, fresh tears falling onto his orange jumpsuit. “What...?”
“You told me it was unnecessary,” I whispered into the phone. “And that’s exactly what you are to my life now, Daniel. Unnecessary.”
I hung up the phone receiver, set it back on its wall cradle, and stood up.
May you like
Daniel slammed his handcuffed hands against the glass, screaming my name, his cries echoing violently inside the small metal booth as the guards grabbed his shoulders and forced him back toward his cell.
I turned my back on him and walked out into the cold afternoon air.
