Chapter 3 - The Counter-Strike
The following forty-eight hours were a blur of legal maneuvering and strategic silence.
I had contacted an old colleague, a high-stakes attorney who owed me a favor.
He didn't care about the local gossip; he cared about the paper trail.
We tracked every transfer, every fake medical referral, and every witness statement that had led to the warrant.
Victoria had been sloppy.
She was so arrogant that she hadn't bothered to hide the digital breadcrumbs.
While the CPS agents were celebrating their "win," we were quietly dismantling their case.
I met Victoria in the hospital cafeteria, a place she felt confident enough to gloat.
She was sipping her coffee, looking pristine and untouchable.
“How’s the separation feeling, Jessica?” she asked, a smirk playing on her lips.
“I told you not to be dramatic.”
I sat down across from her, my hands folded calmly on the table.
“You really thought this would work, didn't you?”
“You think you’re smart, Victoria.”
“But you’re just a spoiled woman with too much time and a very expensive purse.”
She laughed, but her eyes were cold.
“Your son is going to foster care, and you’re going to jail.”
“And I’m going to go home to my husband.”
I pulled out my phone and placed it on the table.
“Do you know what this is?”
“A confession?” she mocked.
“No,” I said. “It’s a record of every bank transfer you made to Dr. Aris—the man you paid to fake Jackson’s medical chart.”
Her smirk faltered.
“You don't have that.”
“I have the transaction IDs, the timestamps, and the email receipts.”
“And the best part?”
I leaned in, my voice dropping to a whisper.
“The bank you used for those transfers is currently under federal investigation for money laundering.”
“The FBI just flagged your entire account history.”
The coffee cup trembled in her hand.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” I asked.
“Check your accounts, Victoria.”
She pulled out her phone, her hands shaking, and opened her banking app.
As she scrolled, her face went from smug to ghostly pale.
The accounts were frozen.
The facade was crumbling.
I had taken her weapon—the law—and turned it against her.
May you like
She had tried to annihilate me, but she had forgotten that power is not about who has the most money.
It’s about who knows where the bodies are buried.
