Chapter 5 - Behind the Glass
The visitation room at the federal holding facility was cold and smelled of industrial bleach. I sat on one side of the thick plexiglass partition, waiting.
When the heavy steel door opened, Arthur was led in.
He looked unrecognizable. The expensive, tailored suit he had worn to the airport was gone, replaced by a coarse, oversized orange jumpsuit. His hair, usually styled to perfection, was disheveled. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot and frantic.
He slammed his hands against the glass as he sat down, grabbing the dirty plastic telephone receiver.
I picked up my receiver slowly, leaning back in my chair.
"Eleanor! You have to drop the charges!" he screamed, his voice cracking through the static-filled line. "You don't understand what you've done! This is a misunderstanding! I was... I was moving the funds to protect them! I knew there was a security breach in the company's main server, and I was securing our assets!"
"Still lying, Arthur," I said, my voice incredibly calm. "Even in orange."
"I am your husband!" he hissed, his eyes bulging. "Eleven years, Eleanor! You're going to let these federal animals lock me up because of a domestic dispute? If you drop the charges, we can work this out. I'll dump Sienna. She’s nothing to me. It was a mistake, Ellie. A midlife crisis. Please. Talk to your lawyers. Tell them it was an authorized transfer."
I looked at him, feeling a profound sense of detachment. I didn't hate him anymore. Hate required energy, and Arthur Vance was no longer worth a single calorie of my effort.
"I didn't bring my lawyers, Arthur," I said. "I brought these."
I held up a manila envelope, pressing it against the glass. Through the transparent window, he could see the bold letters on the top document: PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.
"These are divorce papers," I said. "And because of the post-nuptial agreement you signed five years ago—the one you didn't read carefully because you were too busy flirting with your assistant at the time—any act of proven financial felony against the Sterling Trust nullifies your claim to any marital assets. You are leaving this marriage with exactly what you brought into it."
Arthur stared at the document, his mouth hanging open. "What... what do you mean?"
"You came into this marriage with $12,000 in student debt and a leased sedan, Arthur," I reminded him. "That is exactly what you will have when the divorce is finalized. Except, of course, you won't need the sedan where you're going."
"You b*tch!" he roared, slamming his fist against the glass. "You set me up! You planned this!"
"No," I corrected him gently. "You planned this. You spent two years planning to ruin me, to leave me broke and humiliated while you ran off to Europe with my grandmother's jewelry. I didn't set you up, Arthur. I just let you build your own gallows, and when you asked for the rope, I handed it to you."
"I'll fight this!" he screamed. "I'll hire the best defense team in the country! I'll drag your name through the mud! I'll tell the media that Sterling Enterprises is a fraud!"
"With what money, Arthur?" I asked, my voice a whisper that shut him up instantly. "All your accounts are frozen. The company accounts are locked. Your personal credit cards have been canceled. You can't even afford the payphone in your cell, let alone a defense attorney. You'll be assigned a public defender, and judging by the stack of federal wire fraud evidence we handed the prosecution, they'll advise you to take a plea deal."
He sank back in his chair, his shoulders slumping. For the first time, the reality of his situation seemed to break through his arrogance. He looked small. Pathetic.
"Eleanor... please," he whimpered, a tear finally escaping his eye. "Don't do this to me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
May you like
"Goodbye, Arthur," I said.
I hung up the receiver, stood up, and walked out of the room, leaving his cries echoing against the cold glass.
