Chapter 3 - The Setup
The restaurant was a Michelin-starred establishment downtown, known for its exclusivity and its heavy, soundproof private rooms. I wore a pale rose blouse. It was soft, delicate. Exactly the kind of thing a naive, trusting wife would wear.
Connor was in his element. He poured expensive champagne, laughed at jokes that weren't funny, and played the benevolent genius. Brenda sat across from me. Her eyes were dark and predatory.
There were six major investors at the table. These were men and women who had poured millions into Apex, believing Connor's lies. The tension in the room was palpable to me, but invisible to them.
I knew Naomi Reyes was waiting outside. I knew the warrants had been signed by a judge three hours ago. But Connor and Brenda had their own plan for the evening.
I realized it the moment we sat down. The seating arrangement was highly specific. They placed me at the end of the table, directly in the path of the serving staff, right next to Brenda. They wanted to humiliate me.
Perhaps it was to discredit me before the bank inevitably seized my house. If they could paint me as unstable, clumsy, or hysterical, my future claims of forgery would sound like the ramblings of a bitter wife.
Brenda’s foot shifted under the table. I saw the flash of her jeweled heel. A waiter approached, carrying a massive, heavy crystal bowl of artisan salad, dripping with white ranch dressing.
May you like
Connor caught my eye. He smiled. It wasn't a smile of love. It was the smirk of a man who thought he owned the world, and me with it.
Brenda shifted again. She locked her heel behind the rear leg of my chair. I felt the pressure build. I didn't brace myself. I let it happen. I needed the investors to see exactly who they were.
