Chapter 3 - The Private Jet and the Lawyer**
By 10:15 PM, the transaction counter had hit twenty-six.
I had acquired a complete, high-end wardrobe, rare jewelry pieces that could be easily liquidated if necessary, and three indestructible titanium trunks packed with my entire existence. But I wasn't done yet.
While Madame Laurent arranged for private white-glove delivery of my purchases to a secure, neutral address—a private storage facility I had leased under my maiden name thirty minutes prior—I walked into the VIP financial concourse on the mezzanine level of the department store. There, private wealth managers sat behind frosted glass offices, handling emergency asset allocation for the city's elite.
Julian Vance, a sharp-eyed senior partner at a premier Manhattan family law firm who frequently represented clients from Alexander’s social circle, happened to be reviewing an account in the private lounge. He looked up as I walked in, immediately recognizing my face from several high-society charity galas where I had stood silently in the background while Alexander worked the room.
“Mrs. Grant?” Julian stood up, adjusting his bespoke suit jacket with a look of mild surprise. “Is everything alright? It’s past ten o'clock.”
“Everything is finally falling into place, Mr. Vance,” I said, taking a seat across from his mahogany desk and pulling the black card from my coat pocket. I laid it flat on the wood between us. “I need to retain your services immediately. I want a complete, unsparing, no-contest divorce filed by 9:00 AM tomorrow morning, complete with an emergency asset freeze, spousal support injunctions, and full disclosure of every corporate and personal holding controlled by Alexander Grant.”
Julian stared at the black card, then up at my face. A slow, knowing smile touched the corners of his mouth. He didn't ask questions about what led me here. In his line of work, he recognized the exact moment a suppressed spouse decided to burn the bridge behind them.
“That’s an aggressive timeline, Mrs. Grant,” Julian said, pulling out a legal retainer agreement from his leather folio. “Alexander Grant is notoriously litigious, and his family controls significant real estate and tech assets. We’ll need documentation of marital waste, hidden accounts, and financial misconduct to secure an immediate freeze before he locks his accounts down.”
I slid the stack of twenty-six department store receipts across the desk toward him.
“Charge twenty-seven through thirty-seven occurred over the last twenty minutes,” I replied calmly. “Including a thirty-thousand-dollar wire transfer deposit for a private chartered Gulfstream flight to Zurich under an independent corporate entity, a retainer fee paid directly to your firm, and high-value portable assets purchased on his primary liability card with explicit, recorded permission to spend whatever I wanted.”
Julian picked up the receipts, scanned the itemized totals, and let out a low, appreciative whistle.
“He authorized an unlimited spend tonight?” Julian asked, his eyebrows shooting up.
“Without restriction,” I nodded. “In writing, over the phone, and with a total lack of supervision. He literally handed me the weapon used to dismantle his financial liquidity.”
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For the next hour, Julian and I mapped out the legal annihilation of Alexander Grant. We structured the emergency injunctions so that the moment the Manhattan family court opened at dawn, Alexander’s corporate accounts, personal trusts, and real estate holdings would be slapped with a temporary restraining order preventing him from moving, hiding, or liquidating a single dime. By the time I finished signing the retainer papers, charge thirty-seven had cleared successfully: a fifty-thousand-dollar advance retainer transferred straight to Vance & Associates.
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