Chapter 5 - THE WIFE'S SECRET
“No!” Frank shouted, moving toward the officers as fast as his arthritic legs would allow. “She didn’t steal anything! That’s a lie!”
“Sir, step back,” the lead officer warned, putting a hand on Frank’s chest and pushing him firmly away.
Tessa was crying now, holding her wrists up as the cold steel cuffs clicked around them. The pressure forced her to drop her crutches, and she had to lean entirely on the wall to keep weight off her shattered leg. “Grandpa, I promise I didn’t do it. Please, tell them!”
Julian stared at the watch in the plastic bag. It was Vanessa’s. He had bought it for her fifth anniversary.
The cruelty of it struck him like a physical blow. Vanessa hadn’t just wanted to fire Tessa. She wanted to destroy her. She wanted to punish the girl for Julian’s public rejection, and she was using her wealth and influence to ruin a twenty-three-year-old’s life.
“Officers,” Julian said, his voice dropping into the cold, authoritative baritone he used in boardrooms. He stepped between the cops and Tessa. “Take those cuffs off her immediately.”
The officer scoffed. “And who are you?”
“I am Julian Mercer. The husband of the woman who filed that false report.” Julian pulled out his phone. “The apron was left at the restaurant. My wife had access to it after Ms. Monroe left. If you book this girl, my legal team will sue the city, this precinct, and you personally for wrongful arrest and malicious prosecution. We will own your pensions by Tuesday.”
The officers hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. They recognized Julian’s name. Everyone in Philadelphia politics and business knew Julian Mercer.
“Mr. Mercer,” the officer said nervously, “we have a signed complaint. We have to take her in.”
“I am calling the district attorney,” Julian said, already dialing. “And I am calling Bellamy House to secure the security footage. If you take her out of this apartment, you better be absolutely certain there isn’t footage of my wife planting that watch.”
While Julian spoke rapidly to the DA on the phone, pacing the cramped kitchen, Tessa slid down the wall, weeping quietly into her knees. Frank sat beside her on the floor, holding her head to his chest, whispering that it would be okay.
Julian hung up the phone. “They are holding the arrest. My lawyers are at the restaurant now pulling the tapes.”
He looked at Tessa on the floor, her dignity stripped away, terrified and in pain. Then he looked at Frank, the man who had once been a giant to him, now reduced to begging a cop in a rundown hallway.
Something inside Julian snapped.
He didn’t just want a divorce anymore. He wanted to dismantle Vanessa’s entire world.
Julian walked out of the apartment and called his driver. He rode in silence to the penthouse he shared with Vanessa in Center City.
When he unlocked the double doors, Vanessa was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a glass of wine. She looked perfectly composed, entirely unfazed by the chaos she had caused.
“Did they arrest the little cripple yet?” Vanessa asked, not turning around.
“You planted it,” Julian said, his voice dangerously quiet.
Vanessa turned, a smug, venomous smile on her lips. “Of course I did. You humiliated me, Julian. In front of my friends. In front of the board members. Did you really think I was just going to pack my bags and cry in a hotel?”
“You intercepting my letters to Frank twenty years ago was cruel,” Julian said. “But trying to send an innocent girl to prison? You’re sick, Vanessa.”
Vanessa set her wine glass down. The smile vanished, replaced by a cold, desperate ferocity.
“I did what I had to do twenty years ago to protect you!” she snapped. “You were a stray dog my father took in. You were obsessed with that old man. If you had kept sneaking back to that slum, my father never would have made you CEO. I cut the dead weight for your own good.”
“You did it to control me,” Julian corrected.
Vanessa took a step forward, her eyes flashing. “You belong to my world now, Julian. You don’t get to play the righteous hero. If you leave me, I will ensure that girl goes to jail. I’ll buy the judge. I’ll buy the jury.”
“I’ve already secured the restaurant’s security tapes,” Julian lied smoothly. “Your little frame job is over.”
Vanessa laughed. It was a sharp, grating sound.
“Oh, Julian. You think I’m stupid?” She walked over to a safe hidden behind a painting on the wall. She punched in a code, opened the heavy steel door, and pulled out a manila envelope.
She tossed it onto the glass coffee table.
“Go ahead,” Vanessa sneered. “Save the girl. Leave me. But the minute you file those divorce papers, I am sending this envelope to the New York Times.”
Julian stared at the envelope. “What is that?”
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“Proof,” Vanessa said softly. “Proof of what really happened the night Monroe Hardware burned to the ground. Proof that you didn’t just abandon Frank. You’re the reason he lost everything.”
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