Chapter 12 - The Unholy Alliance-12
Samantha Sterling was not a co-conspirator. She was simply another victim in David’s long line of calculated deceptions.
Over the next three hours, sitting in her living room, Samantha turned over every text message, email, and financial transfer David had ever sent her over their two-year relationship.
David had been living a double life, commuting between Portland and San Diego under the guise of "regional sales trips." He had promised Samantha a dream life in Florida, using my family's wealth to fund her rent, her car payments, and her medical expenses.
"I don't want his money," Samantha sobbed, handing her laptop to Sarah Jenkins. "I don't want anything to do with him! Please... don't let them take my baby away!"
"Your baby is innocent, Samantha," I said gently, touching her hand. "Just like mine. If you want to protect your child, you need to sign an affidavit detailing every financial transfer David made to you. We need to make sure he never touches a single cent of any family asset ever again."
"I'll sign whatever you want," Samantha promised fiercely. "I'll testify against him in court."
With Samantha’s evidence in hand, the federal case against David Vance became airtight.
He was no longer just facing state charges of child endangerment; he was now facing federal racketeering, interstate wire fraud, and grand larceny.
That evening, back at my hotel room in San Diego, I received a phone call from the Multnomah County Jail.
It was a collect call from David.
I accepted the call and put it on speakerphone.
"Valerie!" David’s voice squeaked through the line, sounding panicked, broken, and desperate. "Valerie, please don't hang up! The lawyers told me you went to San Diego! Please, you have to listen to me!"
"I'm listening, David," I said, my voice as smooth as polished glass.
"Samantha means nothing to me!" David cried out. "She tricked me! She seduced me! My mother made me send her that money! Valerie, they're talking about thirty years in federal prison! I won't survive in here! Please, tell the prosecutor it was all a misunderstanding! Tell them you want to drop the charges!"
I listened to him beg, feeling absolutely nothing. No anger, no sorrow—only a profound sense of disgust.
"You left Ethan to die in a crib while he was turning blue, David," I said softly. "You took my credit card to buy drinks in Key West while your mistress was sitting in San Diego waiting for my son's trust money."
"Valerie... please... I'm Ethan's father!"
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"No, David," I replied coldly. "You were just a temporary mistake in my life. And starting today, you are completely erased."
I hung up the phone.
