Chapter 10 - The Gathering Storm Before Trial
The autumn air had turned crisp by late October, bringing a sharp, refreshing breeze through the streets of Viet Tri. The frantic media circus surrounding the initial arrest of Ethan Apex had settled into a steady, methodical hum of investigative journalism as the federal trial date drew closer.
I spent my days at the newly established Vance Foundation for Financial Independence, working alongside federal prosecutors, forensic accountants, and survivor advocates to review case files for victims of domestic financial abuse. Every spreadsheet, every hidden asset trace, and every restructured bank account served as a brick in a new kind of fortress—one built to protect rather than imprison.
My phone rang while I was reviewing a complex offshore asset recovery file. The caller ID displayed a restricted secure federal line.
"Ms. Vance," Agent Marcus Vance’s voice came through, sounding tense and urgent. "Can you come down to the federal holding facility within the hour? We have an unexpected development regarding your husband's upcoming trial."
"What kind of development, Agent Vance?" I asked, sitting up straight in my office chair.
"Ethan’s legal team filed an emergency motion for a psychological evaluation, claiming he is unfit to stand trial," the agent said grimly. "And more importantly... Ethan has requested a private, unrecorded legal deposition with you directly. He claims he has information regarding hidden offshore accounts that were never listed in the initial forensic audit—assets tied directly to your father’s original estate."
Liam, who had walked into my office just in time to hear the exchange, shook his head firmly. "Don't do it, Sarah. It’s a manipulation tactic. He’s grasping at straws trying to rattle you before the jury selection starts next week."
I stared out the window, watching the autumn leaves drift past the glass. For four years, Ethan had controlled every interaction through intimidation, isolation, and psychological games. But the dynamic had permanently shifted. He was no longer the predator in the dark; he was a cornered defendant facing decades in a federal penitentiary.
"I'll go," I said calmly. "If there are still hidden assets belonging to my father's estate tucked away in an unrecovered account, I want them liquidated and transferred to the foundation before the trial begins."
"I'm driving you," Liam said instantly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And Agent Vance will be stationed right outside the interview room door."
Thirty minutes later, the sterile, heavy steel doors of the federal holding facility closed behind me as I entered Interview Room B once again.
Ethan sat on the other side of the stainless-steel table. But the arrogant, polished developer of Apex Development was completely gone. His orange jumpsuit hung loosely over his frame, his hair was graying at the temples, and his eyes held a hollow, desperate panic.
"You came," he whispered, looking up as I sat down and placed my folder on the table.
"I'm only here for one reason, Ethan," I said, my voice level and cold. "Where are the remaining estate assets?"
Ethan let out a harsh, bitter laugh, leaning forward across the table, his chained hands rattling against the steel. "You really think you won everything, don't you, Sarah? You think the federal marshals and your golden-boy brother saved you?"
May you like
"They didn't need to save me, Ethan," I replied evenly. "I saved myself. Now tell me where the accounts are, or I leave this room right now and let the federal prosecutor throw away the key without another word."
Ethan’s eyes narrowed with a sudden, venomous gleam—the last desperate spark of a trapped monster refusing to go down quietly.
