Chapter 4 - THE FINAL AUDIT: LIQUIDATION OF A FRAUD
“What are we going to do with the trash?” Marcus asked casually, gesturing with his thumb toward Vanessa, who was currently trying to back away toward the kitchen door like a cornered rat.
Ethan didn't even look up from his tablet. “Already locked her out of her cloud accounts, canceled her credit cards tied to Derek’s corporate ledger, and notified her landlord that her lease guarantee has been revoked for default of payment. She’ll find out her apartment locks have been changed by the time she reaches her Uber.”
Vanessa stopped dead in her tracks, turning to glare at Ethan with pure, unadulterated hatred. “You can't do that! That’s illegal!”
“Sue me,” Ethan smiled brightly, waving a hand at her. “Oh wait, you can't afford a lawyer anymore. Better hurry outside before the rain ruins those cheap synthetic heels.”
With a strangled cry of frustration and rage, Vanessa grabbed her designer handbag, shoved past Luke without daring to look him in the eye, and bolted out the front door, slamming it behind her with a resounding crash that echoed through the empty hallway.
Derek watched her go, his last remaining anchor to his fantasy world evaporating into the cold night air.
“Claire...” Derek sobbed, his legs finally giving out as Noah dropped him unceremoniously onto the kitchen floor, where he curled into a fetal position against the base of the island cabinets, clutching his stained trousers and weeping openly. “Please... what am I going to do? I have nothing left. The house is mortgaged, the company is gone, the bank is calling the loan... I’m ruined!”
“You were always ruined, Derek,” Daniel said, closing his briefcase with a crisp, final snap. “You just didn't have the decency to build anything real in the first place. Every contract you signed was built on deception, every relationship you maintained was based on what people could do for you, and the moment you decided to bully an eight-year-old child to protect your mistress’s ego, you signed your own death warrant.”
Marcus pulled a single document from his briefcase and dropped it onto the floor right in front of Derek’s face.
“Sign the deed transfer over to Claire,” Marcus commanded quietly. “Voluntary surrender of all marital assets, including the equity in this house, the vehicles, and the remaining corporate shares. In exchange, Daniel will ensure the federal prosecutors don't push for the maximum mandatory minimum sentence on your wire fraud charges. You’ll still do time, Derek, but instead of fifteen years in a federal penitentiary, you might see parole in three if you keep your mouth shut and plead guilty to every single count.”
Derek stared at the paper as if it were a portal to hell.
Three years.
In prison.
From billionaire tech founder to disgraced inmate, all because he thought his wife’s family was just a bunch of ordinary blue-collar nobodies who wouldn't notice if he crushed a little girl’s spirit.
With trembling, ink-stained fingers, Derek picked up the heavy Montblanc pen that Marcus offered him—the very same pen he had used to sign the wedding license ten years ago—and slowly, painfully, scratched his signature onto the dotted line.
May you like
“Done,” Derek whispered, collapsing forward against the cold marble floor, his shoulders shaking with wretched, meaningless sobs.
“Pack your things, Derek,” I said, turning my back on him for the final time. “You have twenty minutes before the local sheriff’s deputies arrive to serve the eviction and asset freeze notices. Don't touch anything that belongs to me or my daughter.”
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