Chapter 3 - The Deposition of Shadows
Four weeks later, the physical therapy ward of the hospital smelled of rub alcohol, polished floors, and sweat.
I stood between two heavy parallel bars, my knuckles white as I forced my legs—now out of the plaster casts and encased in rigid black braces—to take three slow, agonizing steps forward.
One.
Two.
Three.
Pain flared through my ankles and up into my newly healed spleen, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.
Standing at the end of the parallel bars was Grace Park, a ruthless family law attorney whom Sarah had hired using a ten-thousand-dollar retainer we pulled directly from one of Caleb's undisclosed personal accounts—an account I had located using his forgotten tax filings.
Grace was thirty-five, wore sharply tailored suits, and carried a leather briefcase that looked heavy enough to sink a boat.
"His defense attorney filed an emergency motion for temporary custody of Emma this morning," Grace said, opening her briefcase while I dragged my right leg forward for step four. "They're claiming that due to your 'extensive physical injuries and psychological instability,' you are unfit to provide a stable home environment."
I stopped, my body trembling with exertion, and looked up at her. "Where is Emma right now?"
"She's with your sister in Connecticut," Grace assured me quickly. "I obtained a temporary emergency protective order barring Caleb or his mother from coming within five hundred yards of her until the preliminary hearing on Thursday."
"And Caleb's bail?"
"His firm posted it two days ago," Grace sighed, pulling a stack of legal documents from her bag. "Sterling & Sterling doesn't want the publicity of one of their senior vice presidents sitting in Rikers Island while they're finalizing their mid-year merger with a European investment group. They bought him out."
"Good," I said, taking another step forward.
Grace paused, looking over the top of her gold-rimmed glasses at me. "Good? Rebecca, he's out on the street. He has access to his primary assets, he has his legal team, and he has his firm backing him."
"He thinks he has his firm backing him," I corrected, pulling myself to the very end of the parallel bars and sitting down smoothly into the wheelchair waiting behind me. I reached into the side pocket of my chair and pulled out a encrypted USB drive. "He doesn't know I spent the last three weeks going through Sterling & Sterling's public clearing ledgers."
Grace took the drive, frowning slightly. "What's on this?"
"Caleb isn't just stealing from me, Grace," I said, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. "He's been embezzling from Sterling & Sterling's primary pension fund pool for four years. He used the exact same Cayman Islands shell company—Aegis Holdings—to bridge his bad margin bets on the London exchange."
Grace’s eyes widened slightly. "Are you telling me he stole corporate pension funds?"
"Eight point two million dollars," I said smoothly. "He was planning to use my three-million-dollar life insurance payout after the 'accident' to cover the hole in the pension account before the annual autumn audit. When I survived the crash, his entire house of cards began to collapse. That's why he came into my hospital room in a rage. He didn't just want me out of the bed—he needed me to die so the payout would clear before the audit."
Grace sat back in her chair, holding the little thumb drive as if it were a piece of unexploded ordnance.
"Rebecca," she whispered, a slow, cold smile spreading across her face. "This isn't just a divorce case anymore. This is a federal criminal racketeering prosecution."
"I know," I said, reaching down to unbuckle my knee braces. "And the emergency custody hearing is on Thursday at 9:00 AM."
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"Caleb thinks he's walking into a standard family court room to take your daughter," Grace said, closing her briefcase with a sharp, metallic click.
"Let him think that," I looked out the window at the bright afternoon sun. "I want him to feel completely safe right up until the moment the door closes behind him."
