Chapter 5 - The Fall Of The Homewrecker
Vanessa Sterling thought she had played the game perfectly.
She was young, beautiful, and completely devoid of morals.
She had met Ryan two years ago at a hotel bar in Miami.
He had promised her the world, and all she had to do was set up a few bank accounts in her name.
But Vanessa was about to learn that playing with fire eventually gets you burned.
With Mr. Crawford's help, I got a burner phone and sent an anonymous text to Vanessa.
“Ryan made bail. The feds are looking into the Miami accounts. Move the money to the crypto wallet now or we both go to prison.”
It was a risky bluff, but we were counting on her greed and her panic.
We sat in my living room, watching the laptop screen as Crawford monitored the shell company’s accounts.
“Come on, Vanessa,” I whispered. “Take the bait.”
For two agonizing hours, nothing happened.
Sarah paced the floor, chewing her nails.
“Maybe she called his lawyer. Maybe she knows he’s still in jail.”
“No,” Crawford said confidently. “She’s a coward. She cut ties with him in the driveway.”
“She won't risk contacting his official channels. She’ll act on self-preservation.”
Suddenly, the screen blinked.
A red notification popped up on Crawford’s tracking software.
“Gotcha,” he whispered.
“She’s initiating a massive wire transfer. Three point two million dollars.”
“She’s trying to move it to an untraceable offshore crypto exchange.”
“Can you stop it?” Sarah asked, panicking.
Crawford’s fingers flew across the keyboard.
“I don't need to stop it. I just needed her to authorize the transaction.”
“That authorization is the digital fingerprint the FBI needs.”
He hit a key, and a green 'Intercepted' message flashed on the screen.
“The FBI cyber unit just froze the transaction halfway through the clearing house.”
“And they’ve just issued a federal warrant for Miss Vanessa Sterling.”
I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding.
Later that evening, it was all over the local Miami news.
A 26-year-old socialite was arrested at Miami International Airport holding a one-way ticket to Paris.
They showed footage of her being escorted through the terminal in handcuffs.
She was wearing a designer silk trench coat, sobbing hysterically.
Her perfectly blown-out hair was a mess, and her mascara was running down her cheeks.
I watched the screen, feeling a dark, satisfying sense of justice.
“Stay out of my family,” I had told her.
She hadn't listened. Now, she was going to spend her youth in a federal penitentiary.
But the victory felt hollow.
Vanessa was just a symptom of the disease.
The real cancer was still locked in a Dallas jail cell.
And he wasn't done fighting.
The phone rang. It was the district attorney’s office.
“Mrs. Bennett,” the voice on the line said, sounding grim.
“I’m calling to inform you that Richard Bennett’s brother just posted his three-million-dollar bond.”
My heart stopped.
“He doesn't have a brother,” I said.
“Well, someone named Thomas Bennett just handed over the cashier's check.”
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“He’s being released in an hour. We strongly advise you to hire private security.”
He was out. The monster was loose.
