Chapter 3 - The Nashville Office
The office of Vance & Associates occupied the ninth floor of a sleek glass building in downtown Nashville.
It was eight-thirty on Monday morning. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city was waking up in shades of grey and morning sunlight. Inside, Sandra Vance sat behind a massive mahogany desk, her graying hair pulled into a sharp, flawless bun. She wore a tailored charcoal suit and a expression that belonged to a top-tier chess master.
She flipped through the binder of bank statements, tax returns, and property deeds my father and I had laid out in front of her.
"This is remarkable," Sandra said, her voice dry, precise, and devoid of emotion. "Most financial abusers are clever enough to keep their offshore accounts under third-party shell entities. But Mr. Whitaker’s hubris was his undoing. He listed his primary business address for the offshore entity as your former childhood home in Tennessee, assuming your parents wouldn't open mail addressed to his corporate LLC."
"He thought my dad wouldn't care about a state tax letter," I explained, leaning forward in my chair. "Dad opened it thinking it was a notice about our old property."
"And instead, he found gold," Sandra smiled, a thin, sharp curve of her lips. She closed the binder with a firm snap. "Lauren, let me give you a clear picture of where you stand."
I held my breath, gripping the wooden arms of the leather chair. "Okay."
"Derek believes he holds all the cards because he controls the liquid cash," Sandra began. "He believes that because you haven't worked in seven years, you are financially incapacitated and incapable of fighting a long legal war. He intends to use delay tactics to starve you into submission so you'll accept a minimal settlement."
"That sounds like him," I murmured.
"However," Sandra leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, "what Mr. Whitaker does not realize is that hiding assets during a marriage is considered fraud on the court. In Tennessee and Ohio, under federal equitable distribution standards, if a spouse intentionally conceals marital assets, the court has the authority to award up to one hundred percent of those concealed assets to the injured party."
My jaw dropped slightly. "One hundred percent?"
"Seventy-two thousand dollars a month was being diverted from his primary consulting income," Sandra continued. "Income that legally belonged to the marital estate. He has committed tax fraud, perjury on prior tax filings, and breach of fiduciary duty to his spouse. He isn't just looking at a divorce, Lauren. If this goes to a full trial, he is looking at federal indictment."
A soft knock came at the office door, and Sandra’s young associate, a sharp woman named Rachel, stepped inside holding a tablet.
"Sandra," Rachel said, "Derek Whitaker’s lead attorney just filed an emergency motion in Columbus for immediate return of the child, along with a motion to freeze all joint marital assets."
Sandra didn't even blink. "What joint assets? Did they leave anything in the primary checking account?"
"Four hundred and twelve dollars," Rachel replied.
Sandra let out a short, quiet laugh. "The man froze four hundred dollars to show power. How cute. Rachel, file our cross-motion immediately in the Davidson County Family Court. File for emergency temporary sole custody based on financial abandonment and psychological abuse. Attach Exhibit A—the Cayman Islands account statements."
"Right away," Rachel said, stepping back out and shutting the door.
Sandra turned back to me, her sharp eyes fixing on mine. "Lauren, this is going to get very loud, very ugly, and very fast. Derek is going to realize within twenty-four hours that his leverage is completely gone. He will try to negotiate, he will try to threaten, and then he will try to beg. You must promise me one thing."
May you like
"Anything," I said.
"Do not speak to him without me present," Sandra commanded. "Not a text, not a phone call, not a word. Let me be his nightmare."
