Chapter 4 - Meeting The Other Wife
The next forty-eight hours were a blur of lawyers, police statements, and banking freezes.
Ryan—or Richard—was being held in the county jail on charges of domestic assault and massive financial fraud.
His bail was set at three million dollars, a sum he couldn't pay now that I had frozen all the assets.
Mr. Crawford had stayed in Dallas, helping me navigate the legal minefield.
On the third day, he brought someone to my house.
I opened the door to find a woman standing there, looking just as exhausted and shattered as I felt.
It was the blonde woman from the photograph. Sarah.
She was holding a cardboard box filled with financial documents.
“Hi,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I’m... I guess I’m your sister-wife.”
A bitter, ironic laugh escaped my lips. “Come in. I’ll make coffee.”
We sat at my kitchen island, two women bound by a shared nightmare.
Sarah was from Portland. She was a pediatric nurse.
“He told me he was an independent contractor,” Sarah explained, stirring her coffee.
“He said he had government contracts that kept him on the road.”
“He would be gone for weeks at a time. I thought he was building a future for us.”
“Instead, he was here. With you.”
I shook my head, feeling sick.
“He told me he was a regional manager for a logistics firm. Constant travel.”
“We scheduled our lives around his lies,” I said bitterly.
Sarah pulled a ledger from her box.
“He didn't just steal from you, Emily. He took out second mortgages on my house.”
“He drained my parents' retirement fund under the guise of an investment.”
“He ruined my family. He took everything.”
I reached across the counter and took her hand.
Her fingers were cold, but her grip was strong.
“He didn't take everything,” I said fiercely. “We are still here. And we are going to ruin him.”
Sarah looked at me, a spark of hope igniting in her tired eyes.
“How? His lawyers are already trying to negotiate a plea deal.”
“They claim it’s just a messy divorce dispute, not a criminal enterprise.”
“Because they don't know the whole truth yet,” Mr. Crawford said, stepping into the kitchen.
He placed a laptop on the counter and turned the screen toward us.
“I've been tracking the offshore accounts. The money he stole from both of you.”
“It’s not sitting in a bank in the Caymans.”
“He’s been funneling it into a shell company based in Miami.”
“And you’ll never guess who the sole registered owner of that company is.”
He clicked a button, bringing up a corporate registry document.
The name on the screen made my blood run cold.
Vanessa Sterling.
The mistress.
“She wasn't just a side piece,” Crawford said grimly.
“She was his accomplice. She was the one laundering the money.”
I remembered Vanessa’s arrogant smirk in my driveway.
“He was going to tell you tonight.”
They were going to take the money and run to Paris, leaving Sarah and me entirely bankrupt.
A cold, calculating fury settled into my bones.
“Mr. Crawford,” I said slowly. “Can we get that money back before they access it?”
Crawford smiled, a predatory gleam in his eye.
“I have a friend at the FBI who loves a good wire fraud case.”
“But we need Vanessa to make a mistake. We need her to try and move the funds.”
May you like
I looked at Sarah. She nodded in agreement.
It was time to set a trap for the mistress.
