Chapter 4 - The Arrival at LaGuardia
January 2nd, 2:15 PM.
Terminal B at LaGuardia Airport was packed with holiday travelers dragging suitcases, hailing taxis, and reuniting with loved ones under the bright fluorescent lights of the arrival hall.
Standing near the exit doors of Gate 14 was a broad-shouldered man in a dark gray suit named David—a certified process server hired by Rebecca’s firm—holding a thick manila envelope bearing the official seal of the Westchester County Family Court.
Standing twenty feet behind him, sitting quietly on a leather bench near the coffee kiosk, was Rebecca Sterling.
At 2:22 PM, Flight UA 1420 from Denver officially touched down.
Ten minutes later, the double doors of the jetway opened, and the first-class passengers began to file out into the terminal.
Julian Vance walked through the doorway, wearing a tailored navy wool coat, designer sunglasses resting on his head, looking tanned, relaxed, and holding a leather carry-on bag.
Walking closely beside him was Isabel Reyes—a stylish twenty-eight-year-old woman wearing a fur-trimmed winter parka, carrying a white shopping bag from an upscale boutique in Vail. They were laughing together, Isabel reaching over to pat Julian’s arm playfully as they walked toward the baggage carousel.
Julian reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, his face knotting into a deep, frustrated scowl as he checked his messages. For six days, every attempt he had made to call me, access his private credit accounts, or reach our joint bank advisors had been met with a concrete wall of legal freezes and blocked lines.
He was stressed, confused, and desperate to get back to the Bedford house to figure out what "mistake" the bank had made.
"Julian Vance?" David’s voice boomed cleanly over the terminal ambient noise.
Julian stopped, blinking as David stepped directly into his path.
"Yes?" Julian asked, frowning with annoyance. "Who are you?"
David pulled the thick manila envelope from his coat, stepped forward, and pressed it firmly into Julian’s hands.
"Julian Vance, you are formally served with a Summons and Complaint for Divorce, a Temporary Ex-Parte Restraining Order regarding Asset Dissipation, and an Emergency Order of Exclusive Occupancy for 412 Bedford Road issued by the Supreme Court of Westchester County," David announced clearly, loud enough for every passenger in the terminal to hear.
Isabel gasped, taking a sharp step back, her hands flying to her mouth.
Julian froze. His face went from a healthy Colorado tan to a stark, ghostly, violent ash-gray.
He looked down at the thick stack of legal papers in his hands, then looked up, his eyes darting frantically across the crowded arrival hall.
Standing near the coffee kiosk twenty feet away, Rebecca Sterling offered a polite, icy nod, adjusted her wool coat, and turned to walk toward the exit doors.
Julian tore open the envelope with trembling fingers.
The top page bore the bold, black capital letters:
PLAINTIFF: CLARA MONROE VANCE
DEFENDANT: JULIAN THOMAS VANCE
GROUNDS: IRRETRIEVABLE BREAKDOWN / FRAUDULENT CONVERSION OF MARITAL ASSETS
NOTICE: DEFENDANT IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED FROM ENTERING THE RESIDENCE AT 412 BEDFORD ROAD. ALL INQUIRIES MUST BE DIRECTED TO REBECCA STERLING, ESQ.
"What... what the hell is this?!" Julian stammered, his voice pitching into a high, pathetic squeak as he looked at Isabel, then looked back at the papers. "Clara?! Is she insane?!"
Isabel pulled away from his arm, her eyes wide with shock and sudden, sharp terror. "Julian... what did you do? You told me your wife didn't care! You told me she was giving you space!"
"Shut up, Isabel!" Julian snapped, his handsome mask completely shattering into a panic-stricken mess.
He whipped out his phone, frantically dialing my number again, holding the speaker to his ear.
May you like
“The number you have dialed has been restricted or is no longer in service.”
Julian let out a loud, strangled curse, dropping his leather carry-on bag directly onto the polished airport floor, while dozens of holiday travelers walked past him, whispering and pointing at the man whose carefully constructed double life had just collapsed in front of the world.
