Chapter 3 - The FreezeBy 8:00 AM on Monday morning, the news of Garrett Vance’s arrest at L’Étoile had swept through the financial districts of Midtown Manhattan like a wildfire.
While Garrett spent the weekend sitting in a holding cell waiting for his arraignment judge, Evelyn and I executed the first phase of our legal strategy.
I sat in the high-floor conference room of Reed & Partners on Wall Street, drinking green tea, watching the rain beat against the glass windows overlooking the Harbor.
Evelyn walked in carrying a stack of stamped court orders.
"It's done," she said, tossing the papers onto the conference table with a satisfying thud. "Judge Abramson signed the emergency injunction forty-five minutes ago. Every bank account, investment portfolio, and real estate asset tied to Garrett Vance and 'Vance & Associates' is officially frozen."
"What about Vivian's accounts?" I asked.
"We proved to the court that over two hundred thousand dollars of the stolen trust money was funneled directly into her personal checking account at Chase to pay off her penthouse mortgage," Evelyn explained, a triumphant glint in her eyes. "Her personal accounts have been placed under an administrative hold as well. As of right now, Vivian Vance doesn't even have enough credit to buy a cup of coffee at Starbucks."
My phone chimed on the table. It was a text message from my former sister-in-law, Chloe—Garrett's younger sister, who had always kept her distance from her mother's toxicity.
Claire, Mom is losing her mind. She tried to use her Black Card at her salon this morning and it was declined. She's screaming at Garrett's lawyers. Are you really doing this?
I typed back a simple response: I'm taking back what belongs to me.
"What's our next move?" I asked Evelyn.
"Now we hit Garrett where it hurts most," Evelyn said, opening her laptop. "His employment. Garrett works as a senior wealth manager at Sterling-Hayes Capital. The managing partner there, Marcus Hayes, was a close friend of your late father."
"Does Marcus know what Garrett did?"
"He knows about the assault charge from the newspapers," Evelyn replied. "But he doesn't know that Garrett used his firm's corporate stationery to forge the power-of-attorney document."
My blood ran cold. "He used Sterling-Hayes letterhead?"
"Yes," Evelyn pulled up a high-resolution scan of the forged document on her laptop screen. "Look at the watermark at the top right corner. Garrett drafted the fraudulent trust transfer on his official corporate template to give the bank teller the impression that the transfer was an approved internal wealth-management transaction."
I leaned back in my chair, taking a deep breath. "That means Sterling-Hayes is legally liable for failing to supervise their employee."
"Precisely," Evelyn smiled. "And Marcus Hayes isn't going to risk a multi-million-dollar compliance audit from the SEC just to protect a low-tier broker like Garrett."
At 10:30 AM, Evelyn and I walked into the corner executive suite of Sterling-Hayes Capital on Park Avenue.
Marcus Hayes—a distinguished sixty-year-old man with silver hair and sharp blue eyes—stood up from behind his massive oak desk to shake my hand.
"Claire," Marcus said, his voice filled with genuine warmth and concern. "I was heartbroken when I read the news this morning. Your father, Arthur, was one of the most honorable men I ever knew in this business. To think that Garrett... that he treated you this way..."
"Thank you, Marcus," I said softly, taking a seat opposite his desk while Evelyn placed the forged documents in front of him. "I wish I were here under better circumstances, but you need to see what Garrett was doing under your roof."
Marcus put on his reading glasses and began scanning the documents. As he read, his expression changed from sympathetic sadness to absolute, towering rage.
"He used our corporate seal?" Marcus gasped, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edges of the desk. "He executed a fraudulent transfer of Arthur Sterling's trust using a Sterling-Hayes client routing code?!"
"Yes," Evelyn said. "And unless Sterling-Hayes immediately terminates Garrett Vance for gross cause, turns over his corporate email servers to the Manhattan DA, and assists us in recovering the stolen six hundred thousand dollars... we will be forced to name your firm as a co-defendant in a civil fraud lawsuit."
Marcus didn't hesitate for a single second. He picked up his desk phone and pressed the intercom button.
"Sarah," Marcus barked into the receiver, his voice shaking with anger. "Security detail to my office immediately. And tell HR to issue an immediate termination notice for Garrett Vance—gross ethical misconduct, forgery, and corporate theft. Pack his desk in plastic bags and throw it on the sidewalk."
He hung up the phone and looked across the desk at me, his eyes solemn.
"Claire," Marcus said gently. "Your father trusted me to look out for you when he passed away. I failed to see what Garrett was doing, and for that, I am deeply sorry. You will have full cooperation from this firm. Every email, every phone log, every piece of evidence Garrett ever touched is yours."
"Thank you, Marcus," I said, a wave of profound relief washing over me.
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For five years, Garrett had convinced me that I was helpless without him—that his family's position in Manhattan was untouchable, and that I was lucky to be part of their elevated world.
In less than forty-eight hours, his untouchable world was falling apart, brick by fraudulent brick.
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