Chapter 5 - The Fall of the Whitakers
The eviction of Patricia Whitaker from the Laurel Crest estate was the lead story in the Northern Virginia society blogs for three straight weeks.
True to Rachel's word, when Patricia refused to leave the property by the forty-eight-hour deadline, claiming her high-society status made her immune to corporate evictions, the sheriff's department arrived.
Neighbors watched from behind pristine manicured hedges as Patricia’s designer furniture, her expensive oil paintings, and her racks of luxury clothing were carried out onto the driveway in large, heavy-duty black garbage bags—the exact same type of bags she had used to discard Rachel and Lily’s lives just weeks prior.
Patricia stood on the sidewalk, screaming at the moving crew, her face red and distorted with fury, until a local deputy threatened to arrest her for disturbing the peace. With no money left in her frozen accounts and her social circle completely abandoning her to avoid the taint of the scandal, she was forced to move into a tiny, dilapidated one-bedroom apartment above a noisy auto repair shop on the outskirts of the county.
Daniel’s downfall was even more swift and absolute.
Faced with the overwhelming evidence compiled by Marcus Vance and the Army CID, Daniel signed the unconditional surrender of his parental rights and pled guilty to federal identity theft and military fraud. The judge, an old-school veteran who took a personal offense to a civilian stealing from a wounded combat soldier, refused to show leniency.
Daniel was sentenced to four years in a federal correctional institution, followed by three years of supervised release, and ordered to pay full restitution to Rachel's trust fund.
On the day he was processed into the facility, Rachel stood outside the courthouse, watching him being led into the transport van in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs. He looked small, broken, and completely devoid of the arrogant posture he had used to terrorize her in the kitchen of their old home.
He caught her eye through the wired window of the van. He mouthed the words, I'm sorry.
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Rachel didn't blink. She didn't feel anger, nor did she feel a sense of petty happiness. She simply felt a profound, peaceful emptiness where his memory used to live. She turned her back on the transport van and walked down the courthouse steps, her movement smooth and confident.
Her physical therapy was paying off. She didn't need the cane today.
