Chapter 12
The meeting with Robert Chen’s son was different.
James Chen was now twenty-two. He lived alone in a small apartment in Brooklyn, working as a bike messenger, drinking too much, surviving on the edges of society. Vanessa had left him nothing. Not a penny of his father’s sixty-five million.
He opened the door holding a beer.
When Michael told him why he was there, James laughed.
It was a bitter, broken sound.
“Let me guess,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “She married you. Told you she loved you. Was wonderful with your kids for about a year. Then the mask slipped. You caught her hurting them. Threw her out. Now she’s destroying your life to get revenge. Am I close?”
“Word for word,” Michael said.
James stepped back and let him in.
The apartment was a mess. Empty beer cans everywhere. Unwashed dishes. The only clean thing in the entire place was a framed photograph on the coffee table of a handsome man in a suit—Robert Chen—and a ten-year-old boy with the same eyes.
“She threw my dad off the balcony,” James said, picking up the photo. “I was in the next room. I heard him beg. I heard her tell him it would be easier for everyone if he was gone. Then I heard him scream. The police said suicide. Because she was crying so hard at the funeral. Because she was such a loving wife. Because I was just a fucked-up kid who hated his stepmom.”
He took a long drink.
“I tried to kill myself when I was fourteen. Couldn’t handle the nightmares. Couldn’t handle knowing she was out there spending my dad’s money and probably doing the same thing to some other poor bastard’s kids. Turns out I was right.”
He looked at Michael.
“So what do you want from me?”
“Testify,” Michael said. “Tell your story. Help me take her down.”
James laughed again.
“Man, I’ve been telling my story for twelve years. No one ever believed me. Why would they start now?”
“Because this time she made a mistake,” Michael said. “This time there’s proof. My son recorded everything. Hours of it. The judge has already seen it. She’s lost temporary custody. She’s desperate. And desperate people make mistakes. If you add your voice to mine—to Daniel and Sofia’s—maybe this time people will finally listen.”
James was silent for a long time.
He set the beer down on the table beside his father’s photograph.
“You know the worst part?” he said quietly. “For a while, I loved her. I really did. My mom died when I was seven. I was so lonely. And she was there. She read to me. She tucked me in. She told me I was her special boy. And then one day—just like that—it was like a switch flipped. The woman who had been my everything became the thing that haunted my nightmares. I still don’t know which one was real. The loving stepmother or the monster. Or if there was ever any difference between them.”
May you like
He stood.
“I’ll testify,” he said. “But not for you. Not for your kids. I’m doing it for my dad. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die alone and afraid at the hands of a woman who only loved his bank account. And if I can make sure Vanessa spends the rest of her life in a cage? That’s the only closure I’ll ever get.”
