“What could possibly be worse than being completely ruined in front of my whole family?”
As if answering his question, we all heard it.
The sound of a siren in the distance.
It wasn’t an ambulance for his mother.
The sound was different.
Two police patrol cars—blue and white—turned onto Acacia Lane.
They slowed down in front of their small, pathetic group.
The silent spinning lights added a surreal, dreamlike quality to the hot afternoon.
The doors of the cars opened.
Four uniformed officers got out.
Russell’s whole family, including Kendra, instantly fell silent.
The officers scanned the group.
One—a tall, imposing veteran—looked at Russell, then at Kendra. He seemed to be comparing their faces with a photo in the dossier held by his partner.
“Good afternoon,” the veteran officer said.
His voice was deep, firm.
“Are you Russell Preston? And are you Kendra Davis?”
Russell swallowed hard.
His tongue felt stuck.
“Yes. Yes, I am. I am Russell Preston.
“What’s… what’s going on?”
“Yes,” Kendra said, grabbing Russell’s arm.
Her body was trembling violently.
“Honey, why are the police here?” she whispered, terrified.
The officer ignored her.
He continued.
“Mr. Preston, Ms. Davis, we have received a formal complaint and strong initial evidence of company-fund embezzlement and fraud.”
Russell’s heart seemed to drop into his stomach.
“Embezzlement? Officer, you have the wrong person.”
He tried to laugh, but a strange broken sound came out.
“This has to be a misunderstanding. I am the director of my company. It’s… it’s impossible.”
“The charges are specific, sir,” the younger officer said, opening the dossier. “You are accused of embezzling $515,000 from Vance and Associates Design Build through a shell company called Sunshine Consulting LLC, as well as double billing travel expenses and abusing the corporate card for personal gain.”
Russell went pale.
The amount was exact.
The company name was mentioned.
“This is slander!” he shouted, his voice sharp with panic. “It must be a false report.
“It’s my wife’s doing. She’s trying to set me up.”
“You can explain all of that at the station,” the veteran officer said curtly.
“Right now, both of you need to accompany us for further investigation.”
“No!” Kendra shrieked. “I don’t want to go. I’m pregnant, officer. I didn’t know anything.
“I just signed what Russell told me to. He handled everything.
“I’m a victim.”
“Kendra, shut up,” Russell snapped.
Just then, another car—a black luxury sedan—pulled up gently behind the police cars.
The back door opened.
And I stepped out.
I was wearing a cream-colored silk suit.
I had my large black sunglasses on.
I looked calm.
Cold.
Dignified.
I was not alone.
Behind me stepped my lawyer, Mr. Vance, carrying a small briefcase.
Russell stared at me, his eyes wide with horror and rage.
“Meredith!” he screamed. “You reported me. How could you?
“Are you going to send your own husband to jail?”
I slowly walked toward them.
I stopped in front of the officers.
I took off my sunglasses, revealing my clear, icy eyes.
I looked right at Russell.
“Husband,” I said.
My voice was clear and loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Which husband?
“The husband who held a secret wedding with my stepsister?
“The husband who paid for that illegal wedding with stolen money?
“Or the husband who planned to murder his wife for a $10 million insurance policy?”
Each word was a blow.
Russell froze.
Mrs. Albright—still on the curb—gasped when she heard “$10 million insurance policy.”
I was no longer looking at Russell.
I addressed the veteran officer.
“Good afternoon, Inspector.
“I am Meredith Vance. I am the 90% shareholder of Vance and Associates Design Build. I am the complainant.”
Mr. Vance stepped forward and handed the briefcase to the inspector.
“Inside here is all the complete evidence: proof of transfers to the Sunshine account, the company registration in Ms. Davis’s name, the fake invoices signed by Mr. Preston, evidence of the double billing, and copies of the corporate card statements.
“We have audited everything.”
The officer took the briefcase and opened it.
He saw the neat stacks of documents.
He nodded.
“This is more than enough.
“Take them away.”
“No!” Russell struggled.
He realized it was the end.
“Meredith, don’t do this. I made a mistake. I’m sorry.
“Meredith, give me a chance.
“Don’t send me to jail.”
“A chance?” I laughed.
A cold, humorless laugh.
“Your chance ended, Russell.
“It ended when you cheated on me.
“It ended when you conspired with your mother.
“And it ended definitively when you signed that life insurance policy in my name.”
Then I looked at Kendra.
She was now just crying silently, her body trembling.
“And you, Miss Kendra Davis—you enjoyed the stolen money. You set up a shell company in your name, and you became the beneficiary of a $10 million insurance policy.
“Your pregnancy will not save you from justice.”
The other two officers advanced.
One grabbed Russell’s arm.
The other grabbed Kendra’s.
“Let go of me!” Russell resisted.
His fear had now turned into blind rage.
He broke free from the officer’s grasp and lunged at me.
“This is all your fault, you—”
His movement was fast.
But the police were faster.
Before he could even get close, he was subdued.
His arms were twisted behind his back.
Mr. Vance quickly pulled me away.
“Restrain him,” the veteran officer shouted.
“I’ll kill her! Let go of me. I’ll kill her!” Russell screamed, his face red, spittle flying from his mouth.
An officer pulled out handcuffs.
Click.
Russell’s hands were now cuffed behind his back.
I looked at my now helpless ex-husband.
My face remained calm.
I said to the officer:
“Inspector, please note it down.
“A direct death threat in front of multiple witnesses. It supports my other complaint about the insurance policy.”
“Yes, ma’am. Noted,” the officer said, motioning for Russell to be taken to the car.
“Meredith!” Russell continued to shout, his voice now full of desperation as he was dragged to the police car. “I regret it.
“Meredith, I swear I love you.
“Let me go!
“Mom, help me!”