Chapter 7 - The Mistress’s Final CardWhen cornered, a rat will bite. Lauren was no exception.
A month after Daniel’s desperate visit, I found myself sitting in a sterile, glass-walled mediation room in downtown Charlotte. The federal prosecutors had frozen Lauren’s assets, and she was facing disbarment and ten years for real estate fraud.
But Lauren was a fighter. A dirty, manipulative fighter.
She walked into the conference room wearing a modest gray dress, devoid of the flashy designer jewelry she used to flaunt. Her lawyer, a sleazy defense attorney named Harrison, pulled out her chair.
I sat across from her, flanked by my own legal team. I felt nothing looking at her. No anger. No jealousy. Just a clinical, terrifying detachment.
"Let's get straight to the point," Harrison said, sliding a manila folder across the table. "My client is willing to plead guilty to a lesser charge of misdemeanor negligence. She will surrender her real estate license, but she serves no jail time. In exchange, she will not file the counter-suit against your client."
My lawyer laughed out loud. "Counter-suit? For what? Being caught red-handed forging a signature?"
Lauren looked up, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a sickening, triumphant gleam. "For emotional distress and child support."
The room went dead silent.
Lauren placed a hand over her stomach, offering a slow, venomous smile. "I'm pregnant. Daniel is the father. He signed a sworn affidavit this morning acknowledging paternity. The child is a direct heir to whatever marital assets you are trying to seize from him in the divorce."
She let the bomb drop, waiting for me to shatter. She expected me to scream, to cry, to lose my mind at the revelation that my husband had created a child with his mistress while I was away on business trips. This was the ultimate Facebook-drama twist, the weapon she thought would finally break my spirit.
I looked at her stomach. Then, I looked at her face.
I didn't scream. I smiled.
"Congratulations, Lauren," I said softly, leaning forward.
Lauren’s smile faltered. She looked confused by my complete lack of devastation.
"I mean it," I continued, my voice dripping with absolute, freezing authority. "You are pregnant by a man who is about to be sentenced to federal prison for fraud. A man whose bank accounts have been seized by the IRS. A man who currently owes me two million dollars in civil damages, which means his wages will be garnished for the rest of his natural life."
I picked up the manila folder she had slid across the table and tossed it back into her lap.
"You think this child is a bargaining chip?" I whispered, staring dead into her eyes. "This child is your reality check. You won the prize, Lauren. You get to raise a baby on your own, with a disgraced, bankrupt felon for a baby daddy, while you yourself are unemployable because you lost your license. You thought you were stealing an empire. You stole a sinking ship."
Lauren’s face turned the color of ash. Her bottom lip began to tremble as the brutal, inescapable reality of her situation finally crashed down upon her. The arrogant mistress was gone, replaced by a terrified, broke woman who had just realized she had completely ruined her own life.
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"We are rejecting the settlement," I told her lawyer without breaking eye contact with Lauren. "See you at the sentencing hearing."
I stood up, smoothed my skirt, and walked out of the room, leaving her choking on her own tears.
