Chapter 5 - The War of Attrition
I didn't invite Richard Sterling inside. I stood on the dusty concrete walkway of my apartment complex, shielding Hailey behind my body as my neighbor, Mrs. Gable, watched from her doorway.
"I have nothing to say to you," I said, my voice cold. "Speak to my attorney."
"Your attorney is a family law practitioner, Ms. Vance," Sterling said, smiling thinly. "I am a criminal defense lawyer. I represent Mrs. Miriam Vance. My client is deeply saddened by the accident that occurred in her home. She is willing to set up a trust fund for Hailey. Fifty thousand dollars, accessible when she turns eighteen, to cover any... medical or psychological needs. In exchange, we require a signed affidavit stating that the incident was an unfortunate kitchen mishap, and that you do not wish to pursue criminal charges."
I felt a sickening wave of disgust. "Fifty thousand dollars? She burned my daughter’s hands because of a piece of bread, and you think you can buy our silence?"
"I think you should consider your financial situation," Sterling replied, his eyes scanning my modest apartment building with obvious disdain. "A custody battle and a defamation lawsuit from the Vance family will bankrupt you. You will lose your apartment. You will lose your job from taking time off. And eventually, the courts will see that you cannot provide a stable environment for Hailey. Derek will get full custody. Accept the trust fund, Paige. It's the best outcome you're going to get."
"Get off my property," I whispered, my teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. "Get off my property before I call the police for violating the protective order against Derek, whom you are clearly representing by proxy."
Sterling’s smile faded. He slid his card back into his pocket. "As you wish. But remember, you chose the hard way."
The next few weeks were a living nightmare. Just as Sterling had warned, the retaliation began.
First, my boss at the graphic design firm called me into his office. He looked incredibly uncomfortable. "Paige, we’ve received a series of anonymous complaints about your professional conduct from some of our biggest clients. They claim you’ve been erratic and unresponsive."
"That’s not true!" I protested. "I’ve turned in all my projects on time!"
"I know," my boss sighed, looking genuinely apologetic. "But one of those clients is a major development firm owned by a close friend of the Vance family. They’re threatening to pull their multi-million-dollar account if we keep you on. I’m sorry, Paige. I have to let you go."
I walked out of the building with my belongings in a cardboard box, my heart pounding in my throat. I had less than two thousand dollars in my savings account.
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That night, as I sat at my kitchen table staring at my bills, the phone rang. It was Detective Ramirez.
"Paige, we found Sofia," she said.
