Chapter 5
Marcus lunged for his phone, but I was faster.
"Don't bother calling Vanessa," I said calmly. "They're already at her apartment."
The doorbell rang again, followed by authoritative knocking.
"Federal agents! Open the door!"
Linda began hyperventilating—for real this time. She grabbed Marcus's arm with both hands. "Do something! Marcus, do something!"
Marcus's eyes darted around the room like a caged animal's. Then he locked onto me with a look of pure venom.
"You planned this."
"I did."
"Since when?"
"Since the day I stopped being willing to die for you."
The front door burst open—they'd used the building manager's master key. Four agents in dark suits flooded our living room, badges raised.
"Marcus Reed? I'm Agent Diaz with the Financial Crimes Division. We have a warrant for your arrest on charges of wire fraud, embezzlement, and conspiracy to commit insurance fraud."
Two agents flanked Marcus while a third read him his rights. He didn't resist—he was too stunned.
"Elena." He turned to look at me over his shoulder as they cuffed him. His voice cracked. "Elena, we can work this out. I love you. You know I love you."
Eight years of marriage, and those were the first words that made me want to laugh out loud.
"You don't even know what that word means, Marcus."
They led him out. Linda tried to follow, but a female agent stopped her.
"Mrs. Linda Reed? We need you to come with us for questioning regarding your involvement in a fraudulent medical billing scheme."
Linda turned to me, her facade completely shattered, mascara running down her cheeks.
"You ungrateful little bitch," she hissed, all pretense of the frail mother-in-law gone. "After everything my son did for you—"
"Your son married me for my money, and you helped him steal it," I said flatly. "Enjoy the same accommodations you've been pretending to need all these years."
After they were gone, I stood alone in the penthouse—the same penthouse where, in another life, I'd taken my last breath on a cold balcony floor.
I walked out onto that balcony now.
The railing wobbled under my touch. He'd really loosened it. The bolts on the left side were nearly completely unscrewed.
If I'd leaned against it like I always did when I drank my morning coffee...
I stepped back inside and called Daniel Grayson.
"It's done," I said. "Marcus has been arrested. I need to accelerate the trust board meeting."
"Already on it," Daniel replied. "Given the circumstances, the executors have agreed to an emergency session this Friday. You'll have full control of your assets within the week."
"Thank you, Daniel."
I hung up and allowed myself exactly sixty seconds to cry.
Not for Marcus. Not for the marriage. But for the Elena who died believing she was worthless and unloved.
Then I dried my eyes and called Sophie.
"How's the Vanessa situation?"
"Oh, honey." Sophie's voice was gleeful. "You should see the mugshot. She was mid-blowout at the salon when they picked her up. Half her hair is still in foils."
Despite everything, I smiled.
But the smile faded quickly. Because I knew this wasn't over.
Marcus Reed was a narcissist, and narcissists don't go down quietly. He had lawyers—expensive ones—and connections. And there was still the fabricated psychiatric file to deal with.
If his attorneys got hold of those records before I could have them investigated, they could build a case that I was an unreliable witness. That I was paranoid and delusional. That I'd orchestrated all of this out of mental instability.
I needed to destroy that fabricated narrative before Marcus's legal team could weaponize it.
And for that, I needed Dr. Nathan Hoffman—the psychiatrist who'd been writing fake prescriptions in my name for three years.
I pulled up his clinic's address on my phone.
Time to pay the good doctor a visit.
"Don't bother calling Vanessa," I said calmly. "They're already at her apartment."
The doorbell rang again, followed by authoritative knocking.
"Federal agents! Open the door!"
Linda began hyperventilating—for real this time. She grabbed Marcus's arm with both hands. "Do something! Marcus, do something!"
Marcus's eyes darted around the room like a caged animal's. Then he locked onto me with a look of pure venom.
"You planned this."
"I did."
"Since when?"
"Since the day I stopped being willing to die for you."
The front door burst open—they'd used the building manager's master key. Four agents in dark suits flooded our living room, badges raised.
"Marcus Reed? I'm Agent Diaz with the Financial Crimes Division. We have a warrant for your arrest on charges of wire fraud, embezzlement, and conspiracy to commit insurance fraud."
Two agents flanked Marcus while a third read him his rights. He didn't resist—he was too stunned.
"Elena." He turned to look at me over his shoulder as they cuffed him. His voice cracked. "Elena, we can work this out. I love you. You know I love you."
Eight years of marriage, and those were the first words that made me want to laugh out loud.
"You don't even know what that word means, Marcus."
They led him out. Linda tried to follow, but a female agent stopped her.
"Mrs. Linda Reed? We need you to come with us for questioning regarding your involvement in a fraudulent medical billing scheme."
Linda turned to me, her facade completely shattered, mascara running down her cheeks.
"You ungrateful little bitch," she hissed, all pretense of the frail mother-in-law gone. "After everything my son did for you—"
"Your son married me for my money, and you helped him steal it," I said flatly. "Enjoy the same accommodations you've been pretending to need all these years."
After they were gone, I stood alone in the penthouse—the same penthouse where, in another life, I'd taken my last breath on a cold balcony floor.
I walked out onto that balcony now.
The railing wobbled under my touch. He'd really loosened it. The bolts on the left side were nearly completely unscrewed.
If I'd leaned against it like I always did when I drank my morning coffee...
I stepped back inside and called Daniel Grayson.
"It's done," I said. "Marcus has been arrested. I need to accelerate the trust board meeting."
"Already on it," Daniel replied. "Given the circumstances, the executors have agreed to an emergency session this Friday. You'll have full control of your assets within the week."
"Thank you, Daniel."
I hung up and allowed myself exactly sixty seconds to cry.
Not for Marcus. Not for the marriage. But for the Elena who died believing she was worthless and unloved.
Then I dried my eyes and called Sophie.
"How's the Vanessa situation?"
"Oh, honey." Sophie's voice was gleeful. "You should see the mugshot. She was mid-blowout at the salon when they picked her up. Half her hair is still in foils."
Despite everything, I smiled.
But the smile faded quickly. Because I knew this wasn't over.
Marcus Reed was a narcissist, and narcissists don't go down quietly. He had lawyers—expensive ones—and connections. And there was still the fabricated psychiatric file to deal with.
If his attorneys got hold of those records before I could have them investigated, they could build a case that I was an unreliable witness. That I was paranoid and delusional. That I'd orchestrated all of this out of mental instability.
I needed to destroy that fabricated narrative before Marcus's legal team could weaponize it.
And for that, I needed Dr. Nathan Hoffman—the psychiatrist who'd been writing fake prescriptions in my name for three years.
I pulled up his clinic's address on my phone.
Time to pay the good doctor a visit.