Chapter 4 - The Blackmail Strategy
Robin didn't flinch. Six months ago, such a threat would have made him panic. But standing beside me, backed by thirty years of family resilience, he looked at Tabitha as if she were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
"Try it," Robin said simply.
Tabitha stared at him, stunned by his composure. "What?"
"I said, try it," Robin repeated, stepping closer. "Go to the press. Tell them whatever you want. But before you do, you might want to ask yourself why my mother’s lawyer, Marcus Vance, is currently standing in the driveway with two officers from the Financial Crimes Division."
Tabitha’s face drained of color. She whirled around to look out the grand window of the morning room.
A dark blue sedan was parked beside her sports car. Marcus Vance, holding a leather briefcase, was speaking to two uniformed officers.
"What are they doing here?!" she demanded, her voice rising to a frantic pitch.
I took another sip of my tea. "When you lived in Florida under your real name, Tabitha Vane, you were involved in a minor charity fraud scheme involving a fake animal shelter. The charges were dropped because the primary donor refused to testify. However..."
I paused, setting my teacup down with a soft clink.
"...that primary donor was a subsidiary of the Harrington Foundation. And I have decided to reactivate the complaint."
Tabitha took a step back, her hands clutching her designer handbag like a shield. "You... you can't do that! That was four years ago!"
"The statute of limitations on grand larceny in Florida is five years, my dear," I said softly. "You have exactly thirty minutes to pack your personal belongings, hand over grandmother Harrington’s diamond ring, and sign a non-disclosure agreement drafted by Marcus."
"And if I refuse?" Tabitha spat, her knuckles white.
"Then you leave this house in handcuffs," Robin answered firmly. "And instead of a comfortable apartment in the city, you’ll be spending the weekend in a holding cell."
For ten long seconds, Tabitha stood in the center of the morning room, her mind racing through her options. She looked at Robin—the man she had thought was an easy mark—and saw only steel. She looked at me and saw the architect of her complete downfall.
Without another word, she turned on her high heels and marched out of the room, her footsteps echoing furiously up the grand staircase.
Robin let out a long, shuddering sigh, sinking into the sofa. "I really loved her, Mom. Or at least... the woman I thought she was."
May you like
I sat beside him, placing my hand over his. "The hardest part of loving a illusion, Robin, is mourning the person who never actually existed. But you are free now."
"Not yet," Robin murmured, looking toward the hallway. "She’s not the type to go down without burning the house down behind her."
