Billionaire real estate mogul and longtime Democratic donor Stephen Cloobeck has called off his engagement to 28-year-old model Adva Lavie, weeks after prosecutors accused her of running "honey traps" on wealthy older men.
Lavie, a former Penthouse Pet also known as Mia Ventura, has moved out of Cloobeck's $26 million mansion, and a spokesman for the 64-year-old timeshare tycoon confirmed to the Daily Mail that "there will be no wedding or marriage." The couple had planned a June 18 ceremony near the Western Wall in Jerusalem.
The split came days after Lavie was arrested again, this time at a Beverly Hills restaurant called Azur on a Tuesday night, and found not wearing the GPS ankle monitor a judge had ordered her to keep on. She now faces a new case on top of the six felonies she already confronted, and remains in jail after a judge found her original bail violated.
Lavie pleaded not guilty in a Los Angeles courtroom in early April to six felony counts, including grand theft, burglary, and unauthorized use of personal identifying information. Prosecutors alleged she targeted affluent older men, lured them into relationships, moved into their homes, and robbed them of cash, designer goods, and jewelry.
A judge ordered her to wear an ankle monitor, stay in California, and surrender her passport. She left the courthouse that day in a green sweat suit and matching handbag. Speaking to the California Post outside, Lavie said only:
"I just can't wait for this nightmare to be over with."
The nightmare, it turned out, was far from over. The New York Post reported that Lavie's latest arrest also connects to a separate theft allegation: two Airbnb renters at the Coachella music festival in April 2025 reported more than $25,000 in stolen property, including jewelry, credit cards, and cologne. A judge set bail at $20,000 on the new misdemeanor ankle-bracelet charge, but Lavie remains jailed because her original felony bail was revoked.
At her most recent court appearance, Lavie tried to avoid cameras before retreating back into lockup. Her case has been continued until September 10. If convicted on the original six felony counts, she faces up to 11 years in prison.
A prosecutor argued she should be considered a flight risk, telling the court: "She cut off her ankle bracelet, how can that not be a flight risk. We don't know if she left, she didn't have her bracelet on." Her defense attorney, Lou Shapiro, countered that Lavie "was still in Los Angeles, she was still in Beverly Hills, she stayed locally, she had every opportunity to leave but stayed."
Cloobeck is not merely a bystander in Lavie's legal troubles. In May, prosecutors accused him of attempting to intimidate or dissuade a witness from testifying in Lavie's case, a felony that carries up to four years in prison if he is convicted.
The Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department told the Daily Mail that Cloobeck surrendered in West Hollywood on the outstanding felony warrant. Deputies booked him at the station just before 11 a.m. and released him on a $300,000 bond at 1:17 p.m. Through his lawyers, Cloobeck denied the charge.
"These charges are false and we look forward to our day in court."
Cloobeck, the founder of the timeshare company Diamond Resorts, described himself as generous and hospitable. "I built a gorgeous place, my dream home, I relish it, and I'm a very generous man," he said. "I'm very thoughtful and I'm very kind." He acknowledged that many people stay at his home: "I have a lot of people who stay at my house."
His spokesman added context to the breakup's timing, saying the engagement had been off since early June but that Cloobeck "kept it private until now." The spokesman said Cloobeck "is still on friendly terms with her, but that's as far as it goes." It remains unclear when Lavie and Cloobeck began their relationship.
The arrest of a major Democratic donor on a felony warrant would be notable on its own. But Cloobeck's legal woes arrived alongside a much larger scandal involving the man he had bankrolled for governor.
Cloobeck had donated more than $1 million to former Democratic Congressman Eric Swalwell's campaign for California governor. Swalwell was among the Democrats leading the race to replace Gavin Newsom as the state's leader. Just weeks before the scandal broke, Cloobeck called Swalwell his "little brother" in a Politico interview. Swalwell had even been staying at Cloobeck's palatial Beverly Hills mansion.
Then, on April 10, the San Francisco Chronicle published an allegation from an anonymous former Swalwell employee who said the congressman sexually assaulted her in 2019 when he was her boss, and again in 2024. She said she was too intoxicated to consent in both instances and did not go to police at the time because she feared she would not be believed.
At least four more women came forward after that initial report. Three spoke on the record. Lonna Drewes alleged Swalwell drugged and raped her in 2018 after the opening of a restaurant. At a news conference, she described the assault in stark terms:
"While he was choking me, I lost consciousness. I thought I died."
Social media influencer Ally Sammarco alleged she received unsolicited nude photographs from Swalwell on Snapchat after reaching out to him on X to discuss politics. Annika Albrecht told CBS News that Swalwell sent her "sexually inappropriate" messages on Snapchat. Albrecht said:
"For me, justice won't be until he can't ever harm a woman ever again, and he has faced the consequences for the women that he has harmed."
Swalwell, who married sales director Brittany Watts in October 2016 and shares three children with her, denied every accusation. His attorney, Sara Azari, released a statement saying Swalwell "categorically and unequivocally denies each and every allegation of sexual misconduct and assault that has been leveled against him." Two days after the Chronicle story, Swalwell posted on social media that he would "fight the serious, false allegations" but resigned from the governor's race, saying that remaining in Congress while distracted from his duties "would be unfair to constituents."
The pattern of Democratic candidates facing serious misconduct allegations and then scrambling for the exits has become difficult to ignore. The party's recurring vetting failures raise a straightforward question: who is doing the due diligence before these candidates collect millions in donor money?
Hours before Swalwell dropped his gubernatorial bid, Cloobeck told the New York Post he was done. "I am no longer supporting Eric," he said on April 12. He also kicked Swalwell out of his mansion.
Cloobeck did not stop there. His language left little room for ambiguity about his feelings toward the party he had long supported financially:
"F***ing tell everyone I'm a libertarian. F*** you, Democrat Party. I'm a libertarian now."
The former longshot candidate for governor of California is now among hundreds of Swalwell supporters trying to claw back their donations through an attorney. Cloobeck's own contribution, more than $1 million, represents one of the largest single-donor stakes in that effort.
Swalwell's implosion fits a broader pattern. From groping allegations sinking a San Francisco candidate to the legal troubles of other once-prominent party figures, the Democratic bench keeps producing candidates whose personal conduct becomes the story.
Cloobeck's sprawling estate has served as a kind of revolving door for the Democratic donor class and its problems. Swalwell lived there until the sexual assault allegations forced Cloobeck to show him the door. Lavie lived there until prosecutors alleged she was a serial thief who preyed on wealthy men. And Cloobeck himself walked out in handcuffs, briefly, after surrendering on a felony warrant tied to his ex-fiancée's case.
The former Democratic donor, the accused con artist, and the disgraced former congressman now each face their own legal reckoning. Lavie sits in jail awaiting a September hearing. Cloobeck awaits trial on the witness-intimidation charge. And Swalwell, despite his blanket denial, faces accusations from at least five women with no formal resolution in sight.
The arrest of yet another high-profile Democratic figure adds to a growing list that the party's leadership seems uninterested in addressing publicly. Rising stars keep flaming out, and the donors who funded them keep learning the hard way.
When a billionaire donor ends up on a $300,000 bond, his model fiancée sits in a jail cell, and the congressman they both supported faces accusations from five women, the system didn't fail at one point, it failed at every point where someone should have asked a hard question and didn't.
