She Sold My Fortune For Scrap Chapter 2

In the stuffy, monitor-lined security room, I watched the screens.

There she was. Three days ago, 2:15 PM. Cassie walking into my garage with her two kids in tow.

She had my sleek, black key fob in her hand.

She put her seven-year-old son in the front seat—illegal and unsafe—and strapped her five-year-old daughter into the back.

The brake lights flared red. She put it in gear and drove my life out of the building.

Fast forward two hours on the tape. The car returns.

But Cassie wasn't driving. A heavyset, bald man in a faded t-shirt was behind the wheel. A flatbed tow truck followed him in.

The man drove my Range Rover up the ramp onto the flatbed.

Cassie was standing off to the side. She had a thin stack of bills in her hands. She was thumbing through them, smiling. A wide, genuine, victorious smile.

I recorded the monitor with my phone, saving the video to my camera roll.

Just as I turned to leave for the precinct, my phone rang.

Incoming call: Kevin.

Cassie's husband.

I accepted it.

"Gemma, hey. Look, Cassie... she's not thinking straight. Just, please don't take this out on her."

"Kevin, do you know she sold my car?"

"I know... she told me."

"Do you know how much that car was worth?"

"She said it was an older model... she got what, four grand for it?"

"Kevin. I bought that car for 250,000 dollars. I put 50,000 into it. Three hundred grand."

Dead silence on the line. I could hear him breathing.

"You... what did you say?"

"Three hundred thousand dollars, Kevin. Your wife sold a piece of property worth a quarter of a million dollars for four grand."

"No... no way. Cassie said it was only worth a few thousand..."

"She doesn't know cars. Do you?"

Kevin went quiet again. The reality was crushing the air out of him.

A few seconds later, the begging started.

"Gemma, please. She's just an idiot, okay? She doesn't think about these things. She just saw you driving it and got jealous, it ate away at her. Please don't call the cops."

"She stole my keys. She sold my car. And you want me to let it go?"

"The kids can't lose their mother, Gemma! If she catches a felony charge, what am I supposed to do? What happens to the kids?"

"What happens to my car?"

"You... you do so well for yourself. You're loaded. You don't even need that car, right? Cassie has zero money to pay you back. You know how we live. The mortgage, the car loan, the daycare bills..."

"So I'm supposed to subsidize your life with my property?"

"No, I didn't mean that! I'm just asking—can you please be the bigger person here? Just this once? I'll make her get on her hands and knees and beg for your forgiveness, I swear to God."

"Kevin, she didn't steal a two-hundred-dollar handbag from Macy's. She stole a house on wheels."

"But she didn't know! She's a stay-at-home mom, Gemma, how is she supposed to know what custom cars cost?"

"She could have asked me. She didn't. She took my property and sold it behind my back."

"She's just so jealous of you... she talks about it all the time. How it isn't fair that you have this amazing life, and why does a single woman need a car like that... I thought she was just venting! I didn't think she'd actually do anything!"

"Wait. You knew she hated me, and you still thought I gave her the car?"

"I... I thought maybe you were just being generous..."

"Generous? When have I ever said I was gifting her a Range Rover?"

Panic was bleeding into his voice now.

"Gemma, I'm begging you on my life. Don't call the police. I'll find it. I'll get it back, okay?"

"She sold it to a scrap dealer for four grand, Kevin. Do you really think you can just go ask for it back?"

"I'll make her track him down! We'll get it back!"

"It's already gone. The guy in the video drove it onto a flatbed. Do you even know what state it's in by now?"

"I... no..."

"Let me ask you something else. Where is the four thousand dollars she got for it?"

"She... she said she used it to pay for the kids' private preschool tuition..."

"Preschool tuition? Four grand?"

"And she bought some stuff... clothes for the kids, some toys..."

"Listen to yourself, Kevin. Your wife sells my $300k car, takes the cash to go shopping for toys, and you're asking me to just 'be the bigger person'?"

"That's not what I meant..."

"Then what did you mean?"

He broke. I could hear the humiliating sound of a grown man sobbing into the receiver.

"Gemma, please. I'm on my knees. I am literally on the floor right now. If you go to the cops, Cassie is ruined. Our entire family is ruined."

"You should have thought of that before you let her fester in her own entitlement."

"She's my wife! She's the mother of my children!"

"She's a thief."

"She didn't mean to! She just had a momentary lapse in judgment!"

"A lapse in judgment that takes hours to execute and involves a flatbed tow truck?"

"Gemma..."

"Don't call me again. I've made my decision."

I hung up.

He called right back. I let it ring. He sent a barrage of voice memos. I didn't listen to a single one.

Then, Cassie's texts started rolling in again.

Did you call the cops? Are you crazy?

I swear to God, if you do, I'll tell them you gifted it to me!

You left the key at my house. The police won't even know who to believe!

You let me borrow it all the time. How are they going to prove you didn't give it to me?

I read the texts, a cold, dry smile pulling at my lips.

Fine.

Let a jury decide.