Chapter 9 - The Desperate Counterattack
Russell Crane paced the floor of his corner office on the twenty-second floor of the Tysons Galleria Tower.
His desk was buried beneath federal subpoenas, appellate rejections, and bank freeze notices.
Adrian sat slumped in an armchair opposite him, his designer suit unpressed, a half-empty glass of bourbon trembling in his hand.
"There has to be a vulnerability, Russell," Adrian rasped, his voice raw.
"Check her medical records."
"Check her therapy sessions after the twins were born."
"Find something we can present to family court to prove she’s psychologically unfit."
Russell stopped pacing and turned toward his client, his eyes dark with irritation.
"Elena Lane hasn't seen a therapist in eight years, Adrian."
"She volunteers on the county school board."
"Her medical history is completely clean."
"And even if it weren't, no family court judge in the Commonwealth is going to take children from a mother with clean records and give them to an indicted executive facing federal wire fraud charges."
Adrian slammed his glass onto the mahogany side table, sloshing bourbon across the polished veneer.
"I gave those boys everything!" Adrian yelled, his face contorted.
"I paid for the equestrian lessons!"
"I paid the private academy tuition!"
"The tuition was paid directly from a Lane Family Charitable Foundation checking account," Russell countered coldly, pulling a receipt from the file.
"Your name does not appear anywhere on the payment vouchers."
"You didn't pay for the academy, Adrian."
"Her trust paid for it."
Adrian rubbed his temples violently, his arrogance crumbling into erratic panic.
"Then we change the narrative in the press," Adrian insisted, his eyes wild.
"Paige knows the reporters at the Washington Post and the Richmond Times-Dispatch."
"We leak a story about an unhinged heiress sabotaging a vital public transit service out of marital spite."
"Paige is already talking to prosecutors," Russell said quietly.
Adrian stopped breathing.
"What did you just say?"
"Paige Ellison hired her own criminal defense attorney three hours ago," Russell said, looking at him with thinly veiled contempt.
"She’s currently at the federal courthouse in Alexandria negotiating a proffer agreement."
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"She’s trading everything she knows about your offshore shell accounts for full immunity."
Adrian stared at his lawyer, the glass slipping from his fingers and shattering across the Persian rug.
