Chapter 6 - THE MISTRESS TALKS
Julianne lasted six hours.
That was all.
For fourteen days, she had called David her soulmate.
Six hours in federal custody turned soulmate into co-defendant.
Her attorney advised cooperation.
She took the deal.
By midnight, she was talking.
David had used her name to open two companies.
At first, she claimed she thought they were legitimate fitness brands.
Then agents showed her transfers totaling $840,000.
Her story changed.
“I knew some money was moving.”
Reed leaned forward.
“Some money?”
“I didn't know how much.”
“You signed paperwork.”
“David told me to.”
“He bought you a car.”
She looked down.
“Yes.”
“A condo?”
“Yes.”
“Jewelry?”
“Yes.”
“Trips?”
“Yes.”
“And you never wondered why a married logistics executive needed shell companies in your name?”
Julianne's mouth tightened.
“I loved him.”
Reed stared at her.
“That isn't an answer.”
She began crying.
Not because she felt guilty.
Because she finally understood what prison meant.
She gave them account numbers.
Passwords.
Names.
One of those names was Victor Hale.
David's chief financial officer.
Victor was arrested the next morning.
Another name was Senator Caleb Morse's campaign treasurer.
That opened an entirely new investigation.
By day three, the case was no longer just financial fraud.
It had become a federal conspiracy involving bribery, fraudulent contracts, tax evasion, and political contributions routed through shell companies.
And all of it had been sitting behind the walls of my house.
I kept thinking about Lily's bedroom.
Her purple curtains.
Her paper stars.
Her little bookshelf.
While she slept twenty feet away, her father had been building a criminal empire.
I hated myself for not seeing it.
Hannah stopped me the first time I said that aloud.
“You were married, Maya.”
“I should have known.”
“No.”
“I signed things.”
“You signed what he gave you.”
“I trusted him.”
“Exactly.”
She looked at me hard.
“Trust is not a crime.”
David's lawyer called me on the fourth day.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Maya.”
It was Richard Sloan.
David's attorney for ten years.
“I represent David.”
“I know.”
“He wants to speak with you.”
“No.”
“He's grieving.”
“So am I.”
“He didn't know Lily was sick.”
“He knew I called fifty times.”
“Maya—”
“He chose not to know.”
Silence.
Richard changed tactics.
“He's prepared to discuss a generous divorce settlement.”
I laughed.
“You mean with the assets the government froze?”
“He still has resources.”
“Not mine.”
“He wants to avoid a public fight.”
“That's unfortunate.”
“Maya.”
His voice dropped.
“You need to think carefully.”
“Was that a threat?”
“No.”
“It sounded like one.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“Your client spent months trying to label me mentally unstable.”
Richard went silent.
I knew then he hadn't known.
“Ask him about Dr. Cole.”
Nothing.
“Ask him about the forged signatures.”
“Maya—”
“And while you're at it, ask him why he took out a five-million-dollar life insurance policy on our daughter without telling me.”
Richard stopped speaking altogether.
I hung up.
Ten minutes later, Reed called.
“You need to come in.”
“What happened?”
“David asked for a proffer.”
“What does that mean?”
“He wants to negotiate.”
“With what?”
“Information.”
“On who?”
Reed paused.
“Everyone.”
May you like
That night, David Vance decided he would rather burn his entire network than go down alone.
And the first person he offered to sacrifice was Julianne.
