Chapter 15 - The Mistress's Desperate Trap
The arrest of the Chicago operatives at our perimeter sent shockwaves through Julian Vance’s criminal network in Des Moines.
Within twenty-four hours, the federal government issued a coordinated warrant for Vance's financial syndicates across three Midwestern states.
Yet, the real danger was not the men in dark SUVs; it was the viper who had helped ignite the fire in the first place.
Elaine Vance had disappeared from Des Moines the night Corbin was originally arrested, leaving behind an empty penthouse and millions in unpaid retail debts.
The media had labeled her a runaway accomplice, but Elaine was too vain and too vindictive to slink away quietly into obscurity.
On a bright Friday morning, I had taken Wren to the MercyOne Pediatric Clinic in downtown West Des Moines for her eighteen-month checkup.
Two undercover deputies were stationed in an unmarked cruiser in the parking lot, but they could not follow us into the sterile examination rooms.
As I stepped into the second-floor waiting area with Wren securely strapped into her stroller, a woman wearing a heavy trench coat and oversized dark glasses rose from the far corner.
She lowered her glasses, revealing the hollowed, feverish face of Elaine Vance.
Her once-flawless blonde hair was dyed an unkempt dark brown, and her manicured hands were shaking violently around a designer purse.
"Clara," Elaine hissed, blocking the narrow corridor that led to the pediatric exits.
I instinctively pulled Wren’s stroller behind me, my posture locking into an immovable shield.
"Step away from my daughter, Elaine, or the deputies outside will carry you out in zip-ties," I warned, my voice cutting through the quiet clinic like a blade.
"You think you’ve won, don't you?" Elaine whispered, her voice trembling with venomous spite.
"You think because your old man has federal friends that you can just wipe Corbin out and keep everything for yourself?"
"Julian is going down, Corbin is rotting in a cell, and you’re standing here playing the righteous mother!"
"I spent two years listening to Corbin whine about how boring you were, how provincial this miserable state was!"
"He gave me everything, Clara—the diamonds, the bank access, the trust funds!"
"And now your father’s lawyers have frozen every single dollar under my name!"
I looked at the woman before me, seeing not a glamorous seducer, but a pathetic parasite whose host had finally been crushed.
"Corbin didn't give you anything, Elaine," I said, looking directly into her bloodshot eyes without flinching.
"He stole from my daughter to buy your temporary affection."
"You thought you were a queen, but you were just the bait in your brother's illegal scheme."
"And now Corbin has nothing, your brother has nothing, and you are standing in a pediatric clinic with an active felony warrant."
Elaine’s hand twitched toward her open purse, but before she could make another move, the clinic’s heavy security doors burst open.
Sheriff Miller and two plainclothes marshals pinned her against the wall in a matter of seconds, knocking her purse to the linoleum floor.
Out spilled forged passports, airline tickets to Panama, and a vial of prescription sedatives.
As they clicked the cold steel handcuffs around her wrists, Elaine screamed and thrashed, cursing my name until her voice cracked.
May you like
Wren did not even cry; she simply reached up and patted my cheek with her small warm hand.
I bent down, kissed my baby's forehead, and walked out into the April sunlight without looking back once.
