Chapter 7 - Unraveling the Web
By Tuesday afternoon, the frantic chaos of the initial arrest had settled into a grim, methodical routine. Morgan had returned to her own home to manage her graphic design firm, though she checked in every three hours with offers to bring groceries or take Sadie shopping. Victoria Vance had mobilized a team of forensic accountants to tear through Cole’s digital footprint, exposing layers of deception that left even seasoned investigators shaking their heads.
I spent the morning in the sunroom, nursing Lucy while reviewing a preliminary asset report printed out on thick, cream-colored legal paper. The pale-green nursery upstairs was quiet, the soft hum of the white noise machine filtering down through the ceiling. Across from me on the cushioned wicker sofa, Sadie was curled up with a sketchpad, furiously shading geometric patterns with a set of colored pencils—a nervous habit she picked up whenever her mind was racing.
"Hannah?" Sadie asked without looking up from her drawing.
"Yes, honey?"
"Is it true what the lawyer said? About the money in my college fund?" She stopped shading, her pencil hovering millimeters above the heavy paper. "Did he really spend all of it on digital coins and gambling?"
I set my teacup down carefully on the side table, making sure not to disturb Lucy, who was dozing peacefully against my chest, her tiny fists curled near her chin. How do you explain financial ruin to a twelve-year-old without destroying what little faith she had left in her father?
"It's true, Sadie," I answered gently, choosing honesty over comforting platitudes. "Your father made terrible choices. He took risks with money that didn't belong to him, thinking he could double it and replace it before anyone noticed. But investments don't work like magic. When the market crashed, the money vanished."
Sadie's shoulders slumped. She stared down at her sketchpad, her jaw tightening. "He told me you were the one who wanted expensive things. He told me the nursery and the baby clothes were eating up all our savings. Every time we went to the grocery store, he'd sigh and talk about how tight money was getting because of your maternity leave."
"He was deflecting, Sadie," I said, my voice steady despite the bitter taste rising in my throat. "He was shifting the blame onto me so you wouldn't look at the actual accounts. It had nothing to do with Lucy, and it had nothing to do with me. It was about his own fear of getting caught."
Sadie let out a long, shuddering breath. She didn't cry. Instead, a hard, determined look settled into her features—one I hadn't seen on her face before. "I never want to see him again."
"You won't have to," I promised her. "The court orders ensure he cannot contact either of us. And Victoria is filing emergency motions to freeze every remaining asset he has left so we can begin clawing back what belongs to your trust."
Before Sadie could reply, the sharp, authoritative chime of the front doorbell echoed through the house.
My body instantly tensed. I looked down at Lucy, who stirred slightly at the sudden noise, letting out a tiny, squeaking sigh before settling back into her deep sleep. Sadie froze, her pencil dropping onto the rug with a soft thud.
"Stay here," I whispered, gently shifting Lucy into the padded bassinet beside the sofa.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I walked out of the sunroom and down the wide hardwood hallway toward the entryway. The morning sunlight streamed through the stained-glass sidelights flanking the heavy oak front door. Through the frosted glass panels, I could make out the silhouette of a tall figure standing on the porch.
It wasn't a police uniform. It was a tailored suit.
I reached out, gripped the brass doorknob, and pulled the door open just enough to see who was standing there.
It wasn't Cole. It was a woman I had never seen before—sharp-featured, impeccably dressed in a charcoal pantsuit, holding a leather briefcase like a shield.
"Mrs. Price?" she asked, her voice clipped and professional.
"Yes," I replied, keeping my hand firmly on the edge of the door. "Who are you?"
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"My name is Evelyn Cross," she said, flashing a laminated card bearing the logo of a prominent criminal defense firm downtown. "I represent Cole Price. And we need to talk about immediate asset preservation before your attorney systematically strips him of everything he owns."
***
