Chapter 4 - Rats on a Sinking Ship
When Grant arrived back at the Highland Park mansion, his mind was spinning in total chaos. He had gone from a multi-millionaire CEO to a disgraced outcast in less than eight hours.
He kicked open the front door. "Vanessa!" he roared. "Vanessa, get down here! We need to pack, we need to leave for the Aspen house before the media gets wind of—"
He stopped dead in his tracks.
The living room was completely cleared out. The expensive paintings he had purchased with Claire were gone. The designer watches from his glass display case in the master bedroom had been cleaned out. In the middle of the foyer sat three massive Rimowa suitcases.
Vanessa was standing near the door, wearing a tight mink coat, holding her passport and a newly printed cashier's check.
"What is this?" Grant gasped, looking at the luggage. "What are you doing?"
Vanessa looked at him, her eyes stripped of the adoration and warmth she had projected just twelve hours prior. She looked at him with calculated, icy detachment.
"I’m leaving, Grant," she said softly, adjusting her gloves.
"Leaving?!" Grant stormed toward her, but she stepped back calmly. "After everything I gave you? I threw Claire out into the storm for you! I lost my company today because of you!"
"You lost your company because you were stupid enough to hit the daughter of Arthur Vance," Vanessa hissed, her tone venomous. "You told me you were the one with the real power. You told me Arthur was just a figurehead and that you owned the contracts! You lied to me!"
"I made you!" Grant yelled, his face contorting in rage. "I bought you that jewelry! I gave you that apartment!"
"And I kept the receipts," Vanessa smirked, holding up an envelope. "Arthur Vance's legal team contacted me three hours ago, Grant. They offered me a immunity deal and a very comfortable relocation settlement in exchange for my full testimony regarding your offshore tax accounts in the Cayman Islands."
Grant felt as if the room had run out of oxygen. "You... you spoke to Arthur?"
"I gave them everything," Vanessa whispered, walking past him toward the door. "The dummy invoice companies, the shell corporations you used to hide money from Claire... everything. I’m not going to jail for you, Grant. You're a sinking ship, and I always know when to swim."
"Vanessa! You bit--!" Grant lunged forward to grab her arm, but the front door swung open.
Two uniformed Dallas Police officers stepped inside, blocking Grant.
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"Grant Whitmore?" the lead officer asked, pulling out a pair of steel handcuffs. "You are under arrest for felony domestic violence and financial fraud. Put your hands behind your back."
Vanessa slid past the officers with a cruel, triumphant smile, leaving Grant screaming on the marble floor as the cold steel snapped tightly around his wrists.
