Chapter 5 - The Domino Effect
The downfall of Derek Foster was swift, merciless, and completely public.
Within two weeks of his termination, news of the civil lawsuit and the pending criminal charges spread through Miami’s tightly knit financial and business communities like wildfire. Former colleagues turned their backs on him. Financial institutions froze his remaining assets pending the outcome of the corporate fraud investigation.
Deprived of Skylar’s income, Derek couldn't even afford a private defense attorney. He was forced to accept a court-appointed public defender who advised him in no uncertain terms that the audio recording, combined with the hospital medical records, made a trial almost impossible to win.
Meanwhile, Suzanne’s life was collapsing with equal speed.
Without the endless stream of money from Skylar’s credit cards, Suzanne was hit with immediate eviction notices on her apartment and repossession notices for her luxury SUV.
On a humid Tuesday afternoon, Suzanne stormed into the lobby of Skylar’s logistics firm downtown, trying to bypass security to demand an audience with her former sister-in-law.
“I know she’s in there!” Suzanne shrieked at the front desk guard, her designer purse clutched in her hand like a weapon. “She ruined my credit! She’s trying to put my brother in prison! Tell her to come down here right now!”
Two security guards seized her arms, but before they could escort her out into the street, a black sedan pulled up to the curb outside.
Two investigators from the State Attorney’s Office stepped out of the vehicle and walked into the lobby.
“Suzanne Foster?” the lead investigator asked, holding up a badge.
Suzanne stopped flailing, her eyes widening in sudden panic. “Yes?”
“You are under arrest for grand theft, criminal conspiracy, and receiving stolen property in connection with unauthorized credit transactions totaling $85,000,” the officer stated, pulling a set of steel handcuffs from his belt.
“What?! No! It was Derek! Derek gave me the cards!” Suzanne screamed as the cuffs clicked around her wrists, locking her hands behind her back. “I didn't do anything wrong! I’m the victim here!”
“You can explain that to the judge, Miss Foster,” the investigator said indifferently, turning her around and leading her out the glass doors into the bright afternoon sun.
People on the sidewalk stopped to watch, taking out their phones to film the once-arrogant socialite being loaded into the back of a police cruiser in tears.
Up on the eighth floor, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window of her office, Skylar watched the police car pull away into the city traffic.
Her boss, David Vance—Eleanor’s older brother and the regional director of the logistics firm—walked up beside her, holding two cups of fresh, hot green tea.
He handed one to Skylar with a gentle smile. “How are you feeling, Skylar?”
May you like
Skylar took a slow sip of the warm tea, feeling the light breeze from the air conditioner touch her face. The bandage on her cheek had been reduced to a small, neat silicone strip designed to minimize scarring.
“For the first time in six years, David,” Skylar said softly, looking out at the deep blue waters of the bay, “I feel like I can finally breathe.”
