Chapter 4 - The Venomous Serpent Strikes Back
The asset freeze hit Javier and Lydia like a freight train.
By Friday afternoon, Javier’s personal credit cards were declined at a local grocery store, an embarrassing detail I learned from a mutual acquaintance who had seen Lydia screaming at a cashier over a seventy-dollar bill.
However, a cornered animal is at its most dangerous when it realizes it has nothing left to lose.
I had spent the day helping Wyatt set up his dormitory room at Arizona State University. We had bought him a new laptop, desk lamps, textbooks, and clothes. For the first time in years, I felt a deep, peaceful joy watching my little brother smile as he arranged his books on his desk.
"You don't have to stay, Naomi," Wyatt said gently, wrapping his arms around my shoulders near the dorm entrance. "I know you have a million things to handle with the lawyers."
"I'm so proud of you, Wyatt," I said, hugging him tightly. "Call me every single day. If you need anything—anything at all—you tell me."
"I will," he grinned. "And Naomi? Thanks for fighting for me."
"Always," I promised.
I walked out to my SUV in the university parking garage, feeling the heavy burden of the past week slowly lifted from my shoulders. But as I reached my driver’s door, a shadow stepped out from behind a concrete pillar.
"Naomi."
I whirled around, grabbing my pepper spray from my purse.
It was Brittany Ross.
She was seven months pregnant, wearing a cheap tight dress and oversized sunglasses, her bleach-blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail. She looked exhausted, her face pale, her lips pulled into a bitter, resentful line.
"Stay back, Brittany," I warned, holding the pepper spray level with her face. "I have a restraining order against Javier and his mother. If he sent you here, you're breaking the law by proxy."
"Javier didn't send me," Brittany spat, her voice trembling with raw, venomous fury. "I came here myself. You ruined everything, you crazy bitch!"
"I ruined everything?" I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "You were sleeping with my husband for a year! You planned to take the equity from my home to buy yourself a house!"
"Javier loved me!" she screamed, taking an aggressive step forward. "He hated coming home to you! He told me you were a boring, cold, workaholic country bumpkin who didn't know how to treat a real man! He promised me a life! He promised my baby a home!"
"Then ask Javier to give it to you," I said coldly. "Oh, wait—he can't. Because everything he offered you was bought with my money."
Brittany’s face twisted into a mask of pure malice. "You think you're so smart, don't you? Sitting up there in your high-rise, looking down on us? Lydia told me about your pathetic little brother. A poor, dirty farm boy who couldn't even keep a piece of chicken on his plate!"
My knuckles turned white around the pepper spray canister. "Do not bring my brother into this."
"Your brother is a joke! Your whole family is trash!" Brittany yelled, reaching into her purse. "Javier is going to beat you in court! He has friends! He’s going to take your business, and when he does, I'm going to spend every single cent of your money on my son!"
She pulled out a thick envelope and threw it violently at my chest. The papers scattered across the concrete floor.
I looked down. They were copies of a civil suit filed two hours ago in county court—a countersuit by Javier Carter claiming full ownership of Naomi Vance Beauty Enterprises, alleging that I had embezzled company funds, committed physical assault against his mother, and mentally abused him throughout our marriage.
"He filed a police report against you for flipping that table," Brittany smirked, her confidence returning as she saw me reading the header. "He said you threw heavy wooden furniture at an elderly woman. Lydia went to the urgent care clinic yesterday and got a neck brace. She’s suing you for personal injury!"
I stared at the papers, then looked up at Brittany.
I didn't panic. I didn't cry. Instead, I began to laugh. A slow, steady, genuine laugh that echoed off the cold concrete walls of the parking garage.
Brittany’s smirk faded, replaced by sudden confusion. "What's so funny?"
"You really don't get it, do you, Brittany?" I said, stepping closer to her until she involuntarily backed up against a pillar. "Javier didn't file this because he thinks he can win. He filed this because he's desperate. He's using you as his errand girl because he’s too terrified to face me himself."
"He is not terrified of you!"
"He is drowning," I corrected her softly. "And instead of saving yourself and that baby in your stomach, you're tying yourself to an anchor. When the federal investigators finish auditing Lydia's accounts next week, Javier isn't going to buy you a townhome, Brittany. He’s going to go to prison. And you’re going to be left raising a child alone, broke, with a criminal record as his accomplice."
Brittany blinked, her lower lip beginning to tremble as the cold truth finally began to penetrate her delusion.
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"Get out of my way," I said, pushing past her to my car door. "And if you ever approach me again, I won't just file a restraining order—I'll have you subpoenaed as a co-conspirator in federal court."
I got into my SUV, locked the doors, and left her standing alone in the shadows of the garage.
