Chapter 5
The morning sun cast long, sharp shadows across the floor of Valeria’s newly acquired art studio in SoHo. The cavernous industrial space smelled of fresh white paint, turpentine, and raw timber. Sunlight poured through towering arched windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. For the first time in years, Valeria felt the suffocating weight of domestic expectation lift entirely off her shoulders. She stood before a massive blank canvas, a charcoal stick poised in her hand, breathing in the quiet solitude.
Her phone buzzed on a wooden stool nearby. She ignored it, refusing to let the chaos of her former life intrude on her sanctuary. But the vibration persisted, rhythmic and demanding. Sighing, Valeria crossed the wooden floor and picked up the device.
The caller ID flashed an unknown number, but a text message accompanied it. It was from Clara.
We need to talk. Julian lied to both of us about everything. He’s hiding assets in the Caymans under my name, and I’m taking the fall for it unless I cooperate with the feds.
Valeria stared at the screen, a bittersweet irony washing over her. Clara, who had stood in the restaurant just days ago dripping with arrogant triumph, was now desperately seeking a lifeline from the very woman she had mocked. Valeria locked the screen without replying and tossed the phone back onto the stool. She had no desire to participate in Clara's frantic attempts to escape the wreckage she had willingly waded into.
Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the empty studio. Valeria turned toward the heavy iron-reinforced double doors. Pushing them open was Marcus Vance, holding a manila folder and a steaming cup of artisan coffee.
"I trust the neighborhood is to your liking?" Vance asked, stepping inside and taking in the soaring ceilings and minimalist aesthetic.
"It's quiet," Valeria replied, setting her charcoal stick down. "Which means you didn't come here just to admire the real estate. What did Clara want?"
Vance offered a knowing smile, stepping further into the room and placing the manila folder on a drafting table.
"Word travels fast in high society," Vance said. "Clara has already retained counsel, attempting to pin the entirety of Julian's offshore shell companies on him alone. She claims she was merely an unwitting accessory."
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"Will it work?" Valeria asked, leaning against the edge of the drafting table.
"Not likely," Vance replied smoothly. "Our legal team anticipated this move three days ago. We provided the federal investigators with notarized records proving Clara actively managed those specific accounts while holidaying in the Bahamas. She isn't just an accessory, Valeria. She was the operational manager of the stolen funds."
