Chapter 4 - Cassandra’s True Colors
The glass lobby doors closed behind Tyler as two plainclothes detectives stepped forward, flashing federal badges.
"Tyler Vance?" the lead detective asked.
"This is a mistake! It's a civil dispute between husband and wife!" Tyler shouted, backing away, but the officers swiftly seized his arms, pulled his hands behind his back, and snapped a pair of cold steel handcuffs over his wrists.
"You have the right to remain silent," the officer recited in a flat, monotonous voice as they marched him through the lobby past dozens of whispering employees. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."
Three hours later, after an agonizing arraignment where a judge set his bail at a staggering two million dollars due to flight risk concerns, Tyler was permitted one phone call. He sat in a small, sterile holding room at the central booking facility, his expensive suit rumpled, his hair messy, his hands trembling violently as he dialed Cassandra’s private number.
The phone rang four times before a woman’s voice answered, background music and laughter echoing through the receiver.
"Hello?" Cassandra said smoothly.
"Cass! It’s me! It’s Tyler!" he gasped, pressing the receiver tightly against his ear. "You need to help me. Clara has gone crazy. She froze all my accounts, fired me from Hartwell, and had the federal authorities arrest me! I need you to contact my lawyer and post bail!"
There was a sudden, heavy silence on the other end of the line. The background music instantly cut off, as if Cassandra had walked into another room.
"Tyler?" she asked, her voice dropping all its warmth, becoming suspiciously sharp. "What do you mean she froze your accounts? What about the five-hundred-thousand-dollar credit line you guaranteed for my company’s launch?"
"It's all frozen, Cass!" Tyler said frantically. "The board filed criminal charges. They found the wire transfers to your shell company. The federal prosecutors are looking at everything!"
"They found the wire transfers?" Cassandra’s tone shifted from sharp to icy terror. "Tyler, you told me those were legitimate executive bonuses! You told me that money was yours!"
"It doesn't matter right now!" Tyler pleaded. "I need two hundred thousand dollars cash for the bail bond agent. Use the money from the account I set up for you in Virginia—"
"Are you insane?!" Cassandra snapped, her voice turning venomous. "If federal prosecutors are investigating those accounts, I am not touching a single penny! If I touch that money, they'll drag me into a federal indictment as a co-conspirator!"
"Cassandra, listen to me!" Tyler yelled, tears of panic finally spilling down his cheeks. "I did all of this for you! I spent the last two years setting this up so we could be together, so we could build your company! You can't abandon me now!"
"Did it for me?" Cassandra laughed—a sharp, cruel, humorless sound that shattered Tyler’s heart into a thousand pieces. "Tyler, don't be naive. You did it because you were jealous of your wife’s family. You did it because you couldn't stand being a glorified employee in a company owned by Clara’s mother. I was nice to you because you were flying me on private jets and spending thousands of dollars on my launch parties. But I am not going to prison for you."
"Cassandra—"
"Do not call this number again, Tyler. My legal team is already preparing a statement declaring that I was an innocent victim of your corporate fraud."
Click.
The line went dead.
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Tyler sat in the dim holding cell, the dial tone buzzing in his ear like a persistent insect. He stared at the cold concrete floor, the reality of his situation washing over him with crushing, suffocating weight. He had traded a woman who loved him unconditionally, a multi-million-dollar legacy, and three beautiful children for a woman who didn't even hesitate to throw him to the wolves the moment the money dried up.
He covered his face with his bruised, handcuffed hands and began to sob, his weeping echoing loudly off the cold steel bars.
