Chapter 5 - The Audit Begins
"Everything is under control, Officer," I said calmly. "Mr. Vance was just realizing that he has no business here."
Officer Martinez walked up the driveway, his heavy boots crunching on the gravel. He looked Marcus up and down with open disdain. "You're blocking the driveway, sir. And if I'm not mistaken, there's a temporary protection order registered in the dispatch database under your name. You have two minutes to move your vehicle and clear the perimeter before I book you for criminal trespass."
Marcus swallowed hard, his skin taking on the sickly grey pallor of wet cement. He looked at me, his eyes pleading for a shred of the soft, compliant Sarah who used to apologize whenever he came home late.
"Sarah... please," he whispered, his voice trembling with humiliated desperation. "Can we just talk inside? Just five minutes. Between us. For the babies."
"Don't you dare bring my daughters into your mouth," I said, my voice dropping so low and sharp it cut right through him. "You didn't care about their lives when they were fighting for breath in the neonatal unit. You didn't care about them when you were drinking champagne on a yacht in St. Tropez. You only care about them now because you think they can save you from bankruptcy."
Tiffany didn't wait for Marcus. She scoffed, spun on her heels, and marched down the driveway, hailing an approaching rideshare cab on Maple Street without looking back once. The glamorous partner of his four-month dream vacation vanished the moment the money stopped flowing.
Marcus watched her leave, entirely abandoned by the prize he had traded his family for.
"Two minutes, Mr. Vance," Officer Martinez warned, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Marcus stumbled backward down the steps, almost tripping over his own loafers. He scrambled into his Mercedes and threw the car into reverse, peeling out of the driveway with a screech of burning rubber, leaving behind nothing but the smell of exhaust and the heavy silence of victory.
Inside the house, Clara closed the heavy oak door and immediately dialed a number.
"Paul? It's Clara," she said into the receiver. "Start the forensic deep-dive on Marcus’s Cayman accounts. The mistress just confirmed the existence of the offshore holdings on record. Pull the thread until the whole sweater unravels."
She hung up and turned to me, offering a wide, fierce grin. "Sarah, by the time we're done with him, he won't even be able to afford a bus ticket out of this county."
Just then, my mother came down the stairs, carrying Maya wrapped in a pale pink swaddle. "The babies are awake, sweetheart. They're waiting for their breakfast."
May you like
I walked over and took my tiny daughter into my arms. Her huge, dark eyes looked up at me, clear and innocent, untainted by the cruelty of the man who had given her half her DNA.
"Let's feed our girls, Mom," I said, smiling warmly. "The storm outside has passed. Today, we rebuild."
