Chapter 5 - The Audit of VengeanceThe executive suite on the seventieth floor of the Grand Sterling Tower was a sanctuary of dark walnut, brushed steel, and panoramic windows framing the glittering skyline of Boston at midnight.
I sat behind the massive obsidian desk where my grandfather had once ruled the global market, reviewing the digital dossiers Marcus had compiled on my laptop.
The scope of Ethan's corporate malfeasance was even worse than I had initially suspected. It wasn't just arrogance and emotional abuse; it was systemic, calculated white-collar crime. For the past eighteen months, Ethan had been systematically embezzling departmental contingency funds, funneling them into offshore accounts under dummy LLCs—accounts he shared jointly with Madeline. He had also been selling proprietary Sterling Global logistics data to our primary competitor, Vanguard Logistics, in exchange for personal stock kickbacks.
"He really thought he was invincible," I murmured, scrolling through a line of illicit wire transfers.
"Mediocre men often mistake lack of immediate consequences for absolute immunity," Marcus observed, standing near the window with his hands clasped behind his back. "Shall I forward these banking records directly to the FBI's white-collar crime division, Madam President?"
"Send them," I said without hesitation. "Let federal prosecutors handle him. I want a full public indictment filed by sunrise. No settlements, no plea deals for a lesser charge. I want the book thrown at him."
"Consider it done," Marcus replied smoothly.
Just then, my personal cell phone—the old, unencrypted number that only a select few possessed—buzzed violently against the mahogany desk.
I looked down at the screen.
Incoming Call: Ethan Hollis.
I let it ring three times, listening to the shrill vibration buzz against the wood, before tapping the speakerphone icon.
"Ava?!" Ethan’s voice screamed through the high-definition speakers. It sounded frantic, breathless, and soaked in raw, panicked hysteria. "Ava, thank God! Please, you have to help me! You have to call the police, you have to call security! They locked me out of the apartment! My keycards don't work! All my clothes, my Rolex, my laptop—they're all inside, and the landlord says I've been evicted!"
I leaned back in my leather executive chair, resting my chin on my intertwined fingers.
"The apartment lease was in my maiden name, Ethan," I replied calmly, my voice amplified by the quiet suite. "And legally, you were a month-to-month occupant whose contract was terminated ten minutes ago."
"Ava, stop playing games!" he sobbed, his voice cracking into a pathetic wail. "I'm standing in the freezing rain on Fourth Street! My phone is at five percent! Madeline blocked my number the second we got out of the taxi! She took my car keys and drove away! I have nothing left!"
"You have the clothes on your back," I noted mildly. "Well, what's left of them after security threw you out."
"Please!" Ethan wailed, the sound of passing traffic roaring in the background behind his frantic breathing. "We were married for seven years! I loved you, Ava! I made a mistake! It was just a lapse in judgment! I’ll quit my job, I’ll break up with Madeline, we can move away, we can start over—just please don't let them put me in prison! The FBI just served me with a federal subpoena at my motel! They're saying I'm facing fifteen years for embezzlement and corporate espionage!"
I let out a soft, humorless sigh.
"Ethan, do you remember what you said to me on the patio tonight?" I asked softly.
Silence stretched across the line, broken only by his ragged, shivering breaths.
"You said..." I continued, my tone dropping to a freezing, razor-sharp register. "‘I’ve already paid you back.’ Well, Ethan... I’m just collecting the interest."
"Ava, NO—!"
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Click.
I hung up the call, sliding the phone face-down across the desk. I didn't feel anger. I didn't feel satisfaction. I felt only the profound, clean lightness of a chapter completely, permanently closed.
