Chapter 7 - The Settlement
By Wednesday afternoon, the fallout from the Morrison family's destruction had hit the national news cycle.
The Wall Street Journal ran a front-page article titled: "The Hidden Heiress: How Cassidy Vance Reclaimed Her Empire."
The stock price of Vance Global Holdings skyrocketed to an all-time high as investors praised the sudden, ruthless cleanup of corporate corruption. Miller Logistics declared Chapter 11 bankruptcy by noon, its trucks seized by creditors to cover millions in defaulted bank loans.
In a small, windowless consultation room inside the Suffolk County Federal Holding Center, Brendan sat across from me, wearing an orange jumpsuit. His wrists were handcuffed to the steel table.
I sat on a comfortable upholstered chair on the other side of the glass, accompanied by Arthur.
Brendan looked ten years older. His hair was greasy, his face pale and hollow, his hands trembling as he stared at the gold ring sitting on my finger—not my old cheap wedding band, but the Vance family crest ring.
"My lawyer says I'm looking at twelve to fifteen years in federal prison, Cassidy," Brendan said, his voice flat, broken, completely empty.
"Your lawyer is being optimistic," Arthur noted dryly from beside me. "With the fraud charges combined with the corporate espionage counts, Prosecutor Vance is seeking twenty-two years without parole."
Brendan ignored Arthur, locking his hollow eyes onto mine. "Why didn't you just tell me, Cassidy? Why did you pretend to be poor for three years?"
"I wanted to know who you were, Brendan," I answered softly, leaning back in my chair. "When we met at that coffee shop five years ago, you didn't know I was a Vance. You were kind to me. You bought me a three-dollar bagel because you thought I couldn't afford breakfast. I fell in love with that man."
A tear slipped down Brendan’s cheek. "I was that man, Cassidy..."
"No, you weren't," I corrected firmly. "The moment my father died and you were promoted into executive operations, the greed took over. You wanted the Morrison name to sound rich. You let your mother look down on everyone who didn't drive a European car. You became an arrogant, cruel bully."
"I can change," Brendan pleaded, pressing his handcuffed hands against the plexiglass barrier. "Please, Cassidy! I’ll sign whatever you want! I’ll give up all parental rights! Just ask the prosecutor to drop the grand larceny charge! I can't survive in prison!"
Arthur pulled a single sheet of paper from his leather briefcase and slid it through the slot beneath the glass.
"This is the total surrender agreement, Brendan," Arthur explained. "You relinquish all claims to any Vance family assets, accept full financial liability for your mother’s personal debts, agree to a permanent restraining order regarding Ms. Vance and her child, and plead guilty to count one of corporate fraud."
Brendan looked at the paper, his hands shaking violently. "If I sign this... what happens to my mother?"
"Mrs. Diane Morrison has been granted a plea bargain due to her age," Arthur replied. "She will avoid prison time, but her estate, furniture, and personal accounts will be liquidated to pay thirty percent of your restitution. She will be moving into a state-subsidized senior housing unit in West Roxbury on Friday."
"West Roxbury?" Brendan gasped in horror. "She’s seventy years old! She can't live in a public facility!"
"She should have thought about her retirement before she poured dirty water on the CEO of the company that paid her mortgage," I said coldly.
Brendan stared at the paper for a long, agonizing minute. The quiet hum of the fluorescent lights overhead was the only sound in the small room.
He realized he had no leverage. No money. No friends. No family to save him.
Slowly, with trembling fingers, Brendan picked up the pen attached to the clipboard and pressed his signature onto the bottom line.
He slid the paper back through the slot.
"It’s done," Brendan choked out, tears streaming down his hollow face. "I gave you everything. Are you happy now, Cassidy?"
I picked up the signed document and handed it to Arthur.
May you like
I stood up, adjusting my warm coat over my belly, looking down at my ex-husband through the reinforced glass.
"I’m not happy, Brendan," I said softly, turning toward the door. "I’m just clean."
