Chapter 12 - The Architect of Spite
The offices of The Vance Haven were bustling with activity, a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere in David’s private corner room. On the mahogany table lay a thick stack of legal documents.
"How is this legally possible?" Claire demanded, pacing the floor. "The divorce settlement was finalized. He waived all rights to my personal inheritance."
"He did," David explained, rubbing his temples. "But his new legal team is highly aggressive. They are led by Victor Sterling—a man who makes a living reclaiming lost fortunes for corporate monsters. They are arguing that you diverted marital funds into private offshore accounts before the divorce was filed, and then used those 'hidden' funds to establish the foundation. They are calling it asset shielding."
"That’s a lie!" Claire slammed her hand on the table. "Every cent of The Vance Haven came from my late mother’s trust. Richard never touched it, and he certainly didn't contribute to it."
"We know that, and we can prove it," David said gently. "But Sterling’s strategy isn't to win a clean trial. It’s to drag this through the press, freeze the foundation’s bank accounts during litigation, and starve our legal defense fund. If the accounts are frozen, we can't pay the lawyers representing the abused women currently relying on us. He’s trying to suffocate you into a settlement."
Before Claire could answer, her phone buzzed with an email from an unknown address. She opened it. It was a single, high-resolution photograph of her penthouse building, taken from street level. Below it, a short text:
May you like
“Beautiful view, Claire. But heights can be so dizzying. Let's have dinner. Just like old times. - R.”
He was watching her. The predator had returned to his hunting grounds.
