The Vow He Broke Chapter 04
Chapter 4 – The Counterstrike
Vivian’s hand trembled as she held Dominic’s card. Whatever was printed on it had cracked her iron composure like a hammer through porcelain.
“This is… you’re from Weston & Associates?” Her voice pitched higher. “The Weston firm?”
Dominic didn’t blink. “May I come in? Or shall I conduct my client meeting on your doorstep? I’m sure the neighbors would enjoy the show.”
She stepped aside like a woman dodging a bullet. Dominic walked past her without acknowledgment, his gaze fixed on me as I descended the stairs. Each step sent pain radiating through my exhausted body, but kept my chin up.
I..
He extended his hand. His grip was firm, warm, and strangely steadying. “You look like you could use a chair. And a very aggressive legal strategy.”
We sat in the dining room. Vivian hovered outside the door, pretending to arrange flowers while straining to
hear every word.
“Before we begin,” Dominic said, pulling a leather folder from his briefcase, “I should be transparent. I don’t typically take individual divorce cases. My firm handles corporate litigation, class actions, the kind of cases
that make headlines.”
“Then why are you here?”
His pen paused. “Because your husband’s company, Whitfield Creative, is one of three firms my client is currently investigating for financial fraud.”
The words landed like a grenade.
“Fraud?” I whispered.
“Specifically, embezzlement and falsified investor reports. My client has been building a case for months.
When your name came across my desk this morning, the connection was… fortuitous.”
He opened the folder. Inside were financial documents, spreadsheets, emails, things I’d never seen during my years helping build that company.
“Ethan’s been siphoning funds through a shell company registered under Rachel Dunn’s name.” He tapped a highlighted line. “Your best friend. His lover. And apparently, his financial accomplice.”
I stared at the numbers. Millions. Not thousands. Millions routed through accounts I never knew existed.
“Rachel?” My voice cracked. “She was part of this the whole time?”
“From the beginning, it appears. Their relationship isn’t just personal, Mrs. Whitfield. It’s transactional. She
provides the clean accounts; he provides the capital.”
The room spun. All those afternoons Rachel visited me during chemo, holding my hand, bringing flowers. She wasn’t checking on me. She was making sure I stayed blind while they robbed me.
“Here’s what I’m proposing,” Dominic continued. “I represent you in the divorce, pro bono. In exchange, you
cooperate with our investigation. Your insider knowledge of the company could be the key.”
“And if Ethan finds out?”
“He won’t. Not until we want him to.” Dominic’s smile was razor-thin. “Mrs. Whitfield, your husband thinks you’re a helpless, dying woman with no options. Let’s use that.”
A dangerous heat bloomed in my chest. Not hope. Something sharper. Something with teeth.
“What do you need from me?”
“Everything. Every conversation you remember, every document you’ve seen, every late-night call Ethan took in the other room. And most importantly,” he leaned forward, “do not sign those divorce papers.”
“He’s threatening to pull my insurance.”
“He can’t. Not legally. Not while you’re undergoing active treatment during a contested divorce. That’s coercion, and any judge in this state will eat him alive for it.” He pulled out a second document. “I’ve already filed a temporary restraining order on your joint assets. As of thirty minutes ago, Ethan can’t move a dime.”
My breath caught. “You did that before even meeting me?”
“I did my homework, Mrs. Whitfield.” He clicked his pen. “I don’t lose.”
When Dominic left, Vivian pounced.
“What did he want? What did you tell him?” Her voice was frantic, stripped of its usual polish.
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“Everything in this house concerns me!” She grabbed my arm, her nails digging in. “If you’re trying to drag this family through the mud-”
“Let go of me.”
She didn’t. Her grip tightened, her face contorting. “You think some fancy lawyer changes anything? You’re still sick. Still worthless. Still the nobody Ethan rescued from that sad little life in Ohio.”
Chapter 4 – The Counterstrike
I peeled her fingers off one by one, meeting her glare with a calm I didn’t know I possessed.
“Vivian, you should know something. Your son’s.company is under federal investigation. And your darling Rachel? She’s neck-deep in it.”
The blood drained from her face like water from a cracked vase.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” I turned toward the stairs. “Tell Ethan I’m not signing. Not today. Not ever.”
That night, Ethan stormed into the guest room without knocking. His face was red, his tie loosened, a vein
pulsing at his temple.
“What the hell did you tell my mother? She’s been hysterical all afternoon.”
I was propped against the headboard, reading. I didn’t look up. “Close the door. You’re letting in a draft.”
“Nora!” He slammed his palm against the wall. “Who was that man? What lawyer shows up uninvited?”
“The kind you can’t buy.”
His breathing was ragged. I watched him from behind my book, this man I’d loved for seven years, now
unraveling in real time.
“I want his name.”
“No.”
“I’ll find out anyway.”
“Then why are you asking me?” I turned a page.
He stepped closer, looming over the bed. “You think you’re clever? You think some ambulance chaser can go up against my legal team?”
I finally met his eyes. “Ethan, when’s the last time you checked your company accounts?”
His face went blank. Then pale. Then absolutely white.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.” I smiled. “But someone did.”
He backed out of the room like the floor was on fire. I heard him thundering down the stairs, then the frantic
clicking of his laptop keys in the study. Then silence.
