Chapter 4 - The Arrest of the Mistress
At that exact moment, across town in a luxury high-rise apartment complex funded secretly by Jason’s corporate expense account, Chelsea Vance was sipping white wine, feeling completely victorious. She had spent the afternoon monitoring her social media, waiting for the frantic, heartbroken posts from Clara. She truly believed that by destroying the vehicle and the baby seat, she had asserted her dominance, proving to Clara that Jason belonged to her.
She was currently looking at the selfies she had taken in the parking garage, debating whether to send them to Jason from a burner phone to pressure him into finally leaving his pregnant wife.
The peace of her penthouse apartment was shattered when her front door was literally blown off its hinges.
A full tactical SWAT unit, accompanied by Detective Guzman and four state investigators, stormed into the apartment, their weapons drawn, their laser sights painting Chelsea’s expensive athleisure wear with deadly red dots.
"Get on the ground! Face down! Hands behind your back!" a commander roared.
Chelsea screamed, dropping her wine glass, which shattered against the white marble floor. "What are you doing?! Do you know who I am? I am the senior executive assistant at Sullivan Logistics! My boyfriend is the CEO! You can't be here!"
Detective Guzman stepped through the smoke, a pair of heavy, black steel handcuffs in her hands. She shoved Chelsea down onto the marble, forcing her arms behind her back with a brutal efficiency.
"Chelsea Vance," Guzman hissed, clicking the cuffs tightly around her wrists. "You are under arrest for felony criminal mischief, aggravated stalking, making terroristic threats, and reckless endangerment of an unborn child."
"This is ridiculous!" Chelsea shrieked, her perfectly styled blonde hair falling into the spilled wine on the floor. "It’s just a property damage dispute! Jason will pay for the car! It’s a civil matter!"
Guzman leaned down, her face inches away from Chelsea’s terrified countenance. "It was a civil matter until you targeted the daughter of Commissioner Gavin Potter. You took photos of yourself committing a felony against the family of the head of the police department, Chelsea. You didn't just wreck a car. You just signed your own prison warrant."
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As Chelsea was dragged down the gold-paneled hallway of her luxury building, her bare feet dragging against the carpet, neighbors popped their heads out, taking videos of the grand "it-girl" of the building being hauled away in chains. The news of her arrest hit the local media channels within thirty minutes, her smiling selfies from the parking garage displayed side-by-side with her crying mugshot.
The narrative she had tried to build—the story of a powerful mistress displacing a weak housewife—was dead before it even began.
