Chapter 7 - The Desperate Ultimatum
With the trial date for his federal wire fraud and assault charges looming just two weeks away, Julian made one final, desperate play that showed the true depths of his sociopathy.
He had managed to secure a temporary transfer to a minimum-security medical holding facility due to "severe chest pains"—a classic delay tactic his new defense team used to stall the grand jury indictment. Somehow, during a routine transfer between the infirmary and the meeting room, he managed to slip away from an inattentive guard for three minutes by ducking into a restricted attorney-client phone booth.
My cell phone vibrated on my kitchen counter. The caller ID showed a restricted number. I normally wouldn't have answered, but Marcus had warned me that the prosecutor’s office might call from an unlisted line with updates on the grand jury proceedings.
"Elena," Julian’s voice came through the receiver, thin, raspy, and stripped of all charm.
I froze, my thumb hovering over the 'end call' button. But then I remembered what Marcus had told me: Let him talk. Every word he says is another nail in his coffin. I silently pressed the record button on my phone’s screen.
"You think you’ve won, don't you?" Julian hissed, his breathing ragged and uneven. "You think because you got some pathetic doctor to cry on the stand and a ten-year-old to play detective that you're going to walk away with my money and my daughter?"
"It's over, Julian," I said calmly. "The grand jury convenes on Thursday. Victoria has already taken a plea deal and agreed to testify against you to avoid prison time. You have nothing left to bargain with."
He let out a dry, manic laugh that made my skin crawl. "I always have a card left to play, Elena. Did you really think I didn't keep copies of those offshore account routing numbers? If you don't call the district attorney right now and tell them you manufactured those video files—if you don't drop the assault charges and sign over primary custody of Lily—I will release the digital keys to a dead-man's switch I set up six months ago."
"What are you talking about?"
"I wired half a million dollars of Lily’s trust fund into an anonymous cryptocurrency wallet tied to a dark-web gambling syndicate," he lied through his teeth, his voice dripping with malice. "If I go to federal prison, that money vanishes into the ether forever. Our daughter will go to college on student loans, and you'll be spending the rest of your life paying off the back taxes on the fraudulent transfers I made in your name. Pull the charges, Elena. Or I burn our entire life to the ground."
I didn't tremble. I didn't cry. For the first time in twelve years of knowing Julian Vance, I felt complete, absolute mastery over him.
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"Julian," I said, my voice dropping an octave, solid as iron. "This call is being recorded by the federal prosecutor's tracing system on my phone. You just committed felony extortion and witness tampering from a government correctional facility. Enjoy maximum security."
I hung up the phone without waiting for his response, took a deep breath, and walked into the living room to help Lily practice her violin.
