Chapter 6 - The Collapse of Rachel’s Empire
Seven minutes later, Gertrude’s viral video vanished from Facebook.
A frantic, rambling text message from Brandon appeared on my screen: She took it down! She deleted it! Please don't post the video! Rachel is crying, she says if you report the fraud to the police her salon loan will be canceled!
I didn't reply to Brandon's text. Instead, I took my lunch break and walked straight to the law offices of Vance, Sterling & Associates—not far from my office building—where my attorney, Marcus Vance (no relation to Brandon's family, ironically), was waiting for me.
Marcus was a seasoned, shark-like family law attorney who specialized in high-asset divorces and financial abuse cases.
I laid out the entire case on his oak conference table: the pre-marital apartment deed, the bank statements showing Brandon’s hidden transfers, the security footage of Gertrude’s physical aggression and forgery, and the police report filed two nights prior.
Marcus reviewed the documents with a slow, appreciative nod, a cold smile touching his lips.
"Mrs. Vance," Marcus said, sliding his reading glasses down his nose, "your mother-in-law and your husband have handed us a textbook case of egregious financial fraud, breach of fiduciary duty, and domestic harassment on a silver platter."
"I want her out of my life completely, Marcus," I said firmly. "I want a permanent protective order for me and Paisley. And I want Brandon held fully accountable for every dollar he diverted from our family."
"Here is what we are going to do," Marcus explained, pulling out a legal pad. "First, we file a formal petition for legal separation with a motion for exclusive use and occupancy of the marital home—which is already yours anyway. Second, we file a freeze on all joint accounts to prevent Brandon from moving another dime to his sister or mother."
"What about the forged quitclaim deed?"
"We hand that footage and the document directly to the State's Attorney," Marcus said smoothly. "However, we use it as maximum leverage during mediation. If Gertrude and Brandon agree to every single one of our terms—including a full financial surrender, total waiver of any claim to your property, and a strict, legally binding restraining order—we can agree not to push for felony indictment, provided Gertrude enters a diversion program and pays back the money Brandon stole from your joint savings."
"And if Rachel tries to interfere?"
Marcus chuckled darkly. "Rachel is running an unregistered business out of a mortgaged property using fraudulent collateral. One call from my investigator to the state licensing board and the IRS, and Rachel's 'Beauty Bar' will be shut down by Friday afternoon."
That evening, when I returned to the apartment, Brandon was sitting on the sofa, his head buried in his hands.
His phone was ringing continuously on the coffee table. It was Gertrude. Then Rachel. Then Gertrude again.
"They won't stop calling me," Brandon sobbed, looking up at me with bloodshot eyes. "Rachel's salon supplier just canceled her line of credit because your lawyer called her bank. My mom is having an anxiety attack. They're blaming me for everything!"
"They're blaming you because you were their golden goose, Brandon," I said, setting my briefcase down. "And you allowed them to cook you."
I handed him a manila folder containing the legal separation papers prepared by Marcus.
"What's this?" Brandon whispered, his voice trembling.
"Your choices," I answered. "Option A: You sign these separation terms, agree to full financial transparency, enter marriage counseling where you learn how to cut your mother off completely, and pay back the $4,500 into Paisley's account within thirty days."
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Brandon looked at the papers, then up at me. "And... and Option B?"
"Option B," I said, leaning over the sofa until I was looking him straight in the eyes, "is that Marcus files for full divorce tomorrow morning, hands the video of your mother forging my signature to the grand jury, and I subpoena your sister's business records for tax fraud. Choose wisely, Brandon. You have until eight o'clock tomorrow morning."
