CHAPTER 4
At six o'clock the following morning, the door to my hospital room swung open once again, but this time there was no smug entourage or victory champagne.
Julian stumbled into the room, his expensive navy suit wrinkled, his tie loosened, his face pale and slick with cold sweat.
Behind him, Eleanor Vance looked fifteen years older, her manicured hands shaking as she clutched a leather handbag against her coat.
"Amelia!" Julian gasped, his voice raspy, desperate, and cracking with pure panic as he rushed toward the side of my bed. "What did you do? What did you hand over to the U.S. Attorney's office?"
I didn't flinch, nor did I reach for the call button; I simply adjusted Oliver’s blue blanket and looked at my estranged husband with cool detachment.
"I gave them the truth, Julian," I stated softly, every syllable ringing clearly off the quiet room walls. "The truth you tried to hide behind a two-hundred-thousand-dollar hush agreement."
"You ruined us!" Eleanor shrieked, stepping forward, her face contorted in sheer, unadulterated fury. "The FBI froze all our personal and corporate assets at midnight! We can't even pay our legal retainers!"
"Then I suggest you sell your oceanfront estate in Martha's Vineyard," I replied calmly, looking directly into Eleanor's furious eyes. "Though I believe the federal government has already placed a lien on that property as well."
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Julian fell to his knees beside the hospital bed, grabbing the edge of the white sheet, his eyes filled with a terrifying mixture of ruin and desperation.
"Amelia... please," Julian begged, weeping openly like a child. "Think about our sons! If I go to prison, the Vance name will be completely destroyed! They will have nothing!"
