Evelyn swallowed hard, taking a step backward toward the massive front doors. "I don't know what you're talking about. Whatever she gave you, she forged it. She's crazy, Richard!"
"Thomas Vance," Richard said.
The name hit Evelyn like a physical blow. She staggered back, her breath hitching audibly in her throat. The haughty, arrogant mask completely shattered, leaving behind a pathetic, cornered animal.
"He left a very detailed voicemail," Richard continued, his voice dropping into a register of pure, icy rage. "He was very specific about the brake lines. He was very specific about the money you've been wiring him. Money from the trust fund I set up for Maya."
"Richard... wait..." Evelyn raised her hands, trembling violently. "It's not what you think. You don't understand the pressure I was under! Maya was ruining our lives! You never looked at me! You only cared about her! I just wanted..."
"You wanted her dead," Richard stated, the words heavy and final. "You wanted my six-year-old daughter dead. And when the crash only paralyzed her, you realized she was going to require even more of my attention. So you started torturing her. Trying to break her spirit behind my back. Hoping I would institutionalize her."
Evelyn was backed against the heavy oak front door now, her chest heaving. "Please. Richard, I'm your wife. I love you."
"You are nothing," Richard said.
He pulled his cell phone from his other pocket and tapped the screen once.
Almost instantly, the heavy iron gates at the front of the driveway buzzed loudly. The sound of heavy tires crunched on the gravel outside. Red and blue police lights swept across the high arched windows of the foyer, casting frantic, spinning shadows across Evelyn’s terrified face.
"I didn't call hotel security," Richard said, sliding the phone back into his pocket. "I called the police. I sent the audio file to the lead detective of the traffic division who originally investigated the crash. They're not here to take a statement, Evelyn. They're here to arrest you for attempted murder."
"No!" Evelyn shrieked. She spun around, desperately clawing at the heavy brass handle of the front door, trying to get it open. "No, you can't do this! I'll lose everything! My reputation, my friends..."
"You have no friends," Richard said, watching her panic with cold detachment. "You have no money. I froze your accounts three minutes ago. Everything you bought with my money is staying in this house. The clothes on your back are the last things you will ever take from me."
The front doors were pulled open from the outside. Two uniformed police officers stood on the sprawling stone porch, their expressions stern and uncompromising. The flashing lights of the cruisers illuminated the driveway.
"Evelyn Sterling?" the taller officer asked, stepping into the foyer.
Evelyn stumbled back, bursting into loud, ugly, theatrical tears. "Officers, please! My husband is crazy! He's trying to frame me! I need a lawyer!"