Chapter 3 - THE FRAME-UP
I left Arthur’s office in a daze, the reality of my complete destruction settling over me like a suffocating blanket. I tried calling Vanessa. The number was disconnected. I drove frantically to her luxury apartment in Tribeca—the one I had helped pay for. The concierge looked at me with pity. "Miss Cole moved out yesterday morning, Mr. Carter. Paid the lease-break penalty in cash and left with two suitcases."
I broke into the apartment anyway, using the spare key I kept on my ring. It was stripped bare. No clothes, no photos, no trace that a human being had ever lived there, except for a single item left on the kitchen counter: a burner phone.
It rang the moment I stepped toward it.
"Hello?" I answered, my voice shaking with rage.
"I have to admit, David," Vanessa's voice purred through the speaker, devoid of the affection I had grown addicted to. "You made it incredibly easy. You were so desperate to feel like a powerful, desirable man that you never once questioned why I asked to use your laptop to 'check my emails.'"
"You ruined my life," I snarled. "My wife is gone. My son is gone."
May you like
"You ruined your own life," she countered sharply. "I just profited from it. The FBI received an anonymous tip with all the transfer logs an hour ago. I'd suggest getting a good criminal defense attorney, but your assets are about to be frozen. Goodbye, David."
The line clicked dead. Less than twenty minutes later, sirens wailed outside the apartment building. Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. The door was kicked open, and armed federal agents flooded the room, throwing me against the cold hardwood floor. As the handcuffs clicked around my wrists, the full weight of my arrogance crushed me. I had traded my beautiful wife and my innocent son for a phantom who had just handed me a twenty-year prison sentence.
