Page 58 of Dirty Liars

Vivica’s eyes narrowed. “You really have been thorough, Sheriff.” She nodded. “Yes. During the asset disclosure process, my attorney discovered that Theo had donated several valuable properties to an organization called New Dawn Fellowship. He had forged my signature on the transfer documents.”

“How did you respond?” I asked.

“My attorney filed a dispute, of course. These were jointly owned properties worth millions.” Her fingers began drumming on the table again. “Three days later, I received a visit from a law firm I’d never heard of, representing Theo. They offered me a settlement that was extremely generous. More than generous, actually. All of Theo’s liquid assets, plus family jewelry that had been left to him through his grandfather. In exchange, I would withdraw the dispute and sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

“That seems excessive for a routine divorce,” Jack observed.

“It was,” Vivica agreed. “Especially since he had no grounds since he was the one to abandon the marriage. I wanted to refuse—not because of the money, but because something felt wrong about the whole situation.” She swallowed hard. “Then my attorney’s office was broken into. His files were ransacked, but nothing was stolen except my case documents. The next day, he called to tell me he could no longer represent me. He sounded terrified.”

I exchanged a look with Jack. “What did you do?” I asked.

“What could I do? I took the deal.” Shame flickered across her face. “I was scared. I had no idea what I was dealing with, but I knew it was dangerous. The divorce was finalized quickly after that, and for a while, I thought it was over.”

Jack leaned forward. “When did you see Theo again?”

“Almost a year later,” she said. “He showed up at my apartment in London, unannounced. He looked…different. Thinner. More serious. He apologized for everything—for leaving, for the properties, for frightening me. He said he’d made a mistake getting involved with some people who had taken advantage of him, but that his father had helped him get out.”

“Did he mention New Dawn Fellowship?” Jack asked.

Vivica nodded, her eyes darting around the room again. “Not at first. It took years before he told me the full story. We…reconnected that night. He was different—more mature, more present. We began seeing each other again, secretly at first.”

“You became lovers again,” I said, neither a question nor a judgment.

“Yes,” she admitted. “For the past fifteen years. I never stopped loving him, despite everything. But I never trusted him enough to marry him again, either.” She gave a sad smile. “He understood. We had an arrangement that worked for both of us. I had my life in London, my career, my freedom. And Theo…well, Theo had his demons to manage.”

“Which brings us to Chloe Matthews,” Jack said. “What can you tell us about her?”

Vivica’s expression darkened. “That poor girl. I only met her a few times. Theo told me how they met—how she reminded him of himself in some ways.” She shook her head. “He was trying to help her.”

“Help her how?” I asked.

“She had escaped from New Dawn,” Vivica said, lowering her voice even further. “But she hadn’t paid the price to leave like Theo had.”

“Nicholas’s twelve million dollars,” Jack said.

Vivica’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You know about that too? Yes. The price for leaving New Dawn is steep—financially and otherwise. Theo hadn’t turned thirty-five yet, so he hadn’t fully received his inheritance from his grandfather, so Nicholas paid for Theo’s freedom. But Chloe just ran. And they don’t let people leave, not without consequences.”

“What can you tell us about New Dawn Fellowship?” Jack asked. “What are they, exactly?”

Vivica glanced over her shoulder before answering. “On the surface, they’re a spiritual retreat center and self-improvement organization. They own property throughout Virginia and several other states. They recruit wealthy, influential people—or people with potential to be wealthy and influential. They promise enlightenment, purpose, truth.”

“And beneath the surface?” I asked.

“A criminal enterprise,” she said flatly. “Money laundering, blackmail, extortion. They isolate you from your family and friends, take control of your assets, make you dependent on them for everything. And once you’re in, the only way out is to pay—with money, with silence, sometimes with your life.”

“And the tattoos?” Jack asked.

Vivica unconsciously rubbed her foot against her ankle. “A mark of membership. The pattern represents their belief system—the points of enlightenment, they call it. Everyone who joins receives the mark. It’s supposed to be a reminder that you belong to them, body, soul and spirit.”

“Who leads this organization?” Jack asked.

“A man named Paul Prather,” Vivica said, a visible shudder running through her. “He makes David Koresh and Jim Jones look like Billy Graham. Charismatic, brilliant, utterly ruthless. He founded New Dawn thirty years ago after leaving another cult where he was second-in-command. Decided to start his own, more profitable version.”

“He’s operating here in the United States?” Jack asked.

“He was,” Vivica said. “Nicholas’s involvement alerted the State Department to the group, along with your FBI. Paul got wind that there was going to be an FBI raid on the compound, so he picked up and moved. He’s got several hundred followers. They all just left.”

“Where’d they go?” I asked.

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