Chapter 12 - Stephanie’s Last Card
The meeting took place in a small glass conference room at the County Courthouse.
Stephanie arrived accompanied by a high-priced criminal defense attorney named Howard Sterling. Gone was the immaculate, pristine woman who had walked down the aisle at St. Jude’s. Stephanie’s eyes were bloodshot, her designer silk blouse was wrinkled, and her hands trembled as she clutched a paper coffee cup.
When Marcus, Detective Miller, and I walked into the room, Stephanie immediately stood up.
"Charles," she choked out, stepping around her lawyer. "Please. Look at what you're doing to my family. My father is sixty-two years old! He has high blood pressure! He can't survive in jail!"
"Sit down, Ms. Montgomery," Detective Miller said firmly, gesturing toward her chair.
Her lawyer, Sterling, cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. "Mr. Hartwell, Mr. Vance... we are prepared to offer a complete civil settlement. Montgomery Development Enterprises will formally renounce all future development claims regarding Willowbrook Farm. In addition, my client is willing to establish a two-million-dollar irrevocable trust in your mother’s name as compensation for emotional distress."
"In exchange for what, Howard?" Marcus asked smoothly, leaning back in his chair with his pen poised over his notepad.
"In exchange for Mr. Hartwell signing an affidavit stating that the documents found in Stephanie’s office were 'misinterpreted preliminary drafts,' and requesting that the District Attorney drop the felony fraud charges against Richard Montgomery."
I looked at Stephanie. For a second, I saw a flicker of the woman I thought I was going to marry—someone desperate to preserve her comfortable world at all costs. But beneath the panic, I still saw the same cold calculation. She didn't regret trying to steal my mother's home; she only regretted getting caught.
"Two million dollars," I said quietly, repeating Sterling's number.
Stephanie leaned forward, hope flashing in her eyes. "Yes! Charles, think about what that money could do for your mother! She would never have to work another day in her life!"
"My mother hasn't worked for money on that farm in ten years, Stephanie," I replied, my voice steady and unyielding. "She works it because she loves it. You think two million dollars buys your father out of a felony forgery charge? You still don't get it."
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"Charles, please!" she begged, tears spilling over her eyelashes. "I loved you! Doesn't what we had mean anything?"
I stood up, pulling my chair back. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have forged my mother's signature while planning her institutionalization. We're done talking, Sterling. Tell the DA we're proceeding with full prosecution."
