Chapter 14 - The Turncoat Mistress
The federal detention facility in Brooklyn was cold, sterile, and smelled perpetually of ammonia and burnt coffee. Maya sat at a stainless steel table in the visitor's interview room, her hands folded neatly over her cashmere coat. Opposite her, separated by a reinforced plexiglass partition, sat Elena Vance.
In just three weeks, the prison environment had stripped away every vestige of Elena’s high-society glamor. Her dark roots had grown out, her skin was sallow from lack of sunlight, and the orange jumpsuits of the federal corrections system hung loosely on her frame. She stared at Maya with eyes that were no longer defiant, but hollow with terror.
"Why did you come here?" Elena rasped, her voice dry and cracking as she picked up the black telephone receiver on her side of the glass. "Did you come to gloat? To watch me eat out of a plastic tray?"
"I don't have time for gloating, Elena," Maya said through her own receiver, her tone level and businesslike. "I am here because your defense attorney reached out to Victoria this morning. He said you wanted to make a statement regarding the Apex Consulting offshore transfers before the federal grand jury convenes on Monday."
Elena let out a bitter, shuddering breath, pressing her forehead against the cool plexiglass. "Julian lied to me, Maya. He told me the Zurich art transfers were completely legal tax abatement strategies. He said his lawyers had signed off on every single wire! He told me that if anything ever went wrong, his personal trust fund would cover my legal indemnity!"
"Julian doesn't have a personal trust fund," Maya replied coldly. "He never did. He was living off the equity of my grandfather's estate while he used your family's name as a shield for his fraud. When the indictments drop next week, the prosecutor is going to name you as the primary architect of the Zurich money laundering scheme because your brother’s signature is on the foundation documents."
"I can't go to federal prison for fifteen years, Maya!" Elena sobbed, tears finally breaking through her hardened exterior, tracing dirty paths down her cheeks. "I'll give up everything! I have the original, unedited audio files of Julian orchestrating the St. Regis payoffs! I have the private emails where he explicitly instructs Councilman Briggs to falsify the safety inspection certificates! I'll give it all to the DA tomorrow if you just tell them I was a manipulated subordinate!"
May you like
Maya looked at the broken woman on the other side of the glass—the woman who had once laughed at her existence, who had called her "safe" and "domestic." There was no sympathy in Maya’s heart, only the cold, precise calculus of a compliance auditor closing a case file.
"Give the documents to the federal prosecutor, Elena," Maya said, standing up and replacing the telephone receiver onto its hook. "The justice system will decide what your cooperation is worth. But as far as my family is concerned... your tab is already called due."
