Chapter 4 - The Unraveling
Grant didn't leave the building quietly. Security had to physically restrain him as he screamed obscenities down the elevator shaft, accusing me of cold-hearted destruction, calling me a monster, and swearing that he would make sure I left this marriage with nothing.
I stood by the window of Marcus’s office, watching the rain strike the glass.
"He's going to go to Savannah now," I observed quietly.
"Of course he is," Marcus agreed, standing beside me with his hands tucked into his pockets. "He has nowhere else to go. His bank accounts are frozen, his corporate reputation is hanging by a thread, and his only remaining 'ally' is a woman who thinks he's a multi-millionaire."
"What happens when she realizes he's broke?"
"That, my dear Claire, is where the drama gets truly spectacular," Marcus replied dryly. "When a woman enters a relationship based entirely on money and status, removing the money and status tends to illuminate the true depth of her affection."
Two hours later, my predictions came true.
I was back at my hotel suite, going through financial documents with my accountant, when my personal phone chimed with a notification from a local luxury real estate forum. I had set up alerts for properties owned by Grant's development firm.
An emergency listing had just been put up: Penthouse unit on West 54th Street – Fire Sale Price.
It was Savannah’s apartment. Grant was trying to liquidate her residence to raise quick cash.
Not twenty minutes later, my phone blew up with incoming calls from a new, unlisted number. I didn't answer. Then came the text messages.
Claire! This is Savannah! You need to call me right now! What did you do to Grant's accounts?! The electric company just cut off the power to my condo! My credit cards were declined at the hospital for my prenatal checkup! Answer me, you crazy bitch!
I smiled cold, satisfaction settling into my stomach. I opened a fresh text message, typed a brief response, and hit send:
I suggest you ask your fiancé about Arthur Sterling. And you might want to return that oval diamond while Tiffany's still accepts returns.
Five minutes later, my door buzzer rang.
My heart leaped into my throat. The hotel was supposed to be secure. How had anyone gotten up to my floor?
I walked cautiously toward the entryway, looking through the peephole.
Standing in the hallway, flushed, furious, and looking disheveled in a rain-soaked trench coat, was Savannah.
She wasn't alone. Standing right behind her, looking utterly terrified, was Grant’s younger sister, Julianna.
"Claire! Open this door!" Savannah yelled, banging her fist against the wood. "Open the door right now!"
I opened the door three inches, keeping the heavy security latch engaged.
"How did you get up here, Savannah?" I asked calmly.
"Julianna had a keycard from your family's corporate account!" Savannah hissed, gesturing wildly toward Grant's sister.
Julianna looked down at the floor, shame written all over her face. "Claire... I'm sorry. She forced me. She said Grant was going to kill himself if I didn't help her find you."
"Julianna, go home," I said gently. "You don't want to be involved in this."
"Don't talk to her! Talk to me!" Savannah spat, pushing her way closer to the door frame. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair wild. "Grant came back to the apartment crying like a baby! He said you blocked his offshore funds! He told me he might go to jail! Is this true?!"
"It's entirely true," I said, looking her up and down. "Grant is broke, Savannah. He has been broke for six months. Everything he gave you—the ring, the car, the penthouse—was bought with stolen money and my family's collateral."
Savannah froze. The color drained from her face, exactly as it had from Grant's three days ago. "No... no, you're lying. He’s a managing partner! He makes millions!"
"He made bad investments," I explained patiently. "And instead of admitting it, he stole from his clients to keep up appearances for you. And now, the government knows."
Savannah stared at me, her mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. "My... my baby... what about my baby?!"
May you like
"That's a question for Grant," I said softly. "Now, take your hands off my door before I have hotel security arrest you both for trespassing."
I closed the door, engaged the deadbolt, and walked back into my living room, leaving Savannah’s screams echoing down the carpeted hallway.
