Chapter 5 - The Legal Trap: Why Derek Couldn't Touch Me Anymore
Over the next four weeks, Derek Vance descended into a spiral of paranoia and fury that began to unravel his carefully curated public persona.
In his Columbus office, high above the Scioto River, the mahogany conference table was strewn with surveillance reports, private investigator invoices, and empty espresso cups. Across the table sat Greg Sterling, Derek's lead attorney, whose expression grew bleaker with every passing day.
"What do you mean you haven't found her?" Derek shouted, slamming his palm onto a stack of glossy photographs showing random women in transit stations across the Midwest. "She had no car, no money, and a newborn infant! A woman in that condition doesn't just evaporate into thin air, Greg!"
"Derek, keep your voice down," Greg warned, adjusting his glasses. "The investigators checked every hospital in Ohio. Nothing. But yesterday, we finally got a ping on her social security number. An emergency birth registration was filed in Wheeling, West Virginia, four weeks ago, and an application for a state identity card was processed in Allegheny County, Pennsylvania."
Derek leaped to his feet, his eyes bloodshot. "Pennsylvania? That bitch went to her sister. I’m driving to Pittsburgh tonight. I’ll take the police, kick down the door, and bring my daughter home. She kidnapped my child!"
"You will do no such thing," Greg said firmly, his voice cutting through Derek's mania like an icy blade.
"Why the hell not? I am the father!"
"Because," Greg said, sliding a thick legal document across the desk, "this was delivered to my office by a federal process server two hours ago."
Derek snatched the document, his eyes scanning the bold headers: IN THE UNITED STATES DISTRICT COURT FOR THE WESTERN DISTRICT OF PENNSYLVANIA — CLARA MONTGOMERY V. DEREK VANCE & VANCE HOLDINGS LLC.
"What is this garbage?" Derek hissed.
"It's a federal emergency petition for protective relief and a forensic corporate audit," Greg explained, his tone laced with genuine dread. "Her attorney is Julian Ross. You know who that is, don't you? He's the guy who shredded the Carlton estate last year. Clara has submitted sworn affidavits documenting domestic abandonment, accompanied by timestamped security footage from your own driveway showing you throwing fifteen dollars at her while she was doubled over in labor."
Derek's face drained of color. "That footage was on my private home server. How did she—"
"Her sister had cloud access to your smart-home backups from when you had her house-sit two years ago," Greg sighed, rubbing his temples. "The court has already granted a temporary interstate protective order. If you step within five hundred yards of Clara or the child, you will be arrested on federal contempt charges. Furthermore, Ross has filed a lis pendens against Vance Holdings' primary development accounts, freezing all commercial loan disbursements until the true ownership of your intellectual property is litigated."
Derek sank slowly into his leather executive chair, the reality of the trap closing around him.
"She can't freeze my accounts," Derek whispered, his voice cracking. "The Columbus Riverfront project requires a four-million-dollar liquidity draw next week to pay the general contractors. If that draw doesn't clear, the city pulls the municipal permits!"
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"Then you better pray you can convince her to settle quietly out of court," Greg said coldly. "Because if this goes before a federal judge, not only do you lose the project, Derek... you might go to prison for corporate embezzlement."
For the first time in his life, Derek Vance realized that the woman he had treated like a disposable shadow was holding the executioner's axe above his neck.
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