Chapter 5 - The Vengeance Protocol
I cried for exactly ten minutes in the parking lot.
And then,
I stopped.
I wiped my face with a tissue from the glove compartment.
I reapplied my lipstick in the rearview mirror.
Crying would not get my money back.
Crying would not punish Calvin.
Crying would not wipe that smug,
fake-sympathetic look off Stephanie's beautifully made-up face.
I needed a lawyer.
Not just any lawyer.
I needed a shark.
I needed someone who specialized in asset recovery and high-conflict divorces.
I pulled out my phone and called my boss,
Richard.
Richard was the senior partner at the consulting firm where I worked.
He was ruthless,
brilliant,
and he knew everyone in the city.
He answered on the second ring.
"Brooke,"
he said,
sounding surprised.
"You're not due in the office until eleven."
"Richard,"
I said,
my voice perfectly steady.
"I have a personal emergency.
I need a recommendation."
"What kind of recommendation?"
he asked,
his tone shifting instantly to business.
"I need the best divorce attorney in the state,"
I said.
"Someone who knows how to pierce a corporate veil,
unwind fraudulent transfers,
and utterly destroy an opposing party."
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.
"Calvin?"
Richard asked softly.
"Calvin,"
I confirmed.
"I'll text you a name and a number in thirty seconds,"
Richard said.
"Tell him I sent you.
He will see you today.
Take the rest of the week off, Brooke.
Do what you have to do."
"Thank you, Richard."
I hung up.
Ten seconds later,
my phone buzzed with a text message.
The name was Marcus Sterling.
I called the number immediately.
A receptionist answered.
"Law Offices of Marcus Sterling."
"My name is Brooke Davis,"
I said.
"Richard Vance referred me.
I need an emergency consultation with Mr. Sterling.
Today."
"Let me check his schedule, Mrs. Davis."
A brief pause.
"Mr. Sterling can see you at one o'clock this afternoon."
"I'll be there,"
I said.
I had three hours to kill.
I started my car and drove back to my apartment.
My apartment.
Not ours anymore.
When I walked inside,
it felt different.
It felt like a crime scene.
I walked back into the home office.
I gathered all the folders I had found.
I took pictures of the broken drawer lock.
I took pictures of everything.
I found a large tote bag and shoved all the evidence inside.
Then,
I went into the master bedroom.
Calvin's closet was full of expensive suits.
Suits he had bought with my money.
Suits he wore when he went to meet his lawyer to steal my inheritance.
I walked into the kitchen,
grabbed a pair of heavy-duty scissors,
and walked back to the closet.
I did not cut the suits into ribbons.
That would be too obvious.
That would be emotional.
Instead,
I carefully cut the stitching on the inside seams of the crotch and the armholes on every single pair of trousers and every single jacket.
Just enough so that the moment he put them on and stretched,
they would split wide open.
It was petty.
But it made me smile.
A cold,
dark smile.
As I packed a suitcase for myself,
my phone buzzed on the bed.
I looked at the screen.
It was a text from Calvin.
"Brooke. We need to talk. I want to explain. Please."
I stared at the message.
I typed a reply.
"We will talk. Very soon."
I hit send.
Then I blocked his number.
I blocked Stephanie's number.
I zipped up my suitcase,
grabbed the tote bag full of financial evidence,
and walked out of the apartment.
The game had changed.
May you like
They thought they were playing checkers,
stealing my money and running away to build their little hotel.
