Chapter 2 - Thirty-Seven Alerts at the CarlyleAt the Carlyle Hotel on Madison Avenue, the dining room was dim, intimate, and smelled of white truffles and expensive champagne.
Sophia Reed leaned across the white tablecloth, her platinum blonde hair falling in perfect waves over a emerald silk dress. She laughed softly, touching Alexander’s wrist with a manicured hand.
"I always knew you couldn't stay away, Alex," Sophia murmured, her dark eyes sparkling with triumphant amusement. "That little country mouse you married—she was never your type. She didn't belong in our world."
Alexander smiled back, swirling his vintage burgundy. For the first time in two years, the heavy weight in his chest felt lifted. He felt free. "She served her purpose, Sophia. It was a quiet two years. But tonight is about us."
Before Sophia could answer, Alexander’s phone buzzed sharply against the mahogany table.
He glanced down, expecting a standard notification. Instead, the screen flashed with a high-priority fraud-prevention alert from his private bank.
Transaction Alert: $12,450.00 charged at "The Velvet Gent Cabaret & Entertainment Services."
Alexander frowned, tapping the notification away. "Probably a security glitch," he muttered.
A second later, his phone vibrated again.
Transaction Alert: $8,900.00 charged at "The Velvet Gent Cabaret."
Then another. Transaction Alert: $15,000.00.
Then another. Transaction Alert: $22,500.00.
Within three minutes, Alexander’s phone began vibrating continuously like a trapped insect. The screen lit up in a relentless cascade of red text.
Alert: $5,000.00.
Alert: $14,200.00.
Alert: $18,900.00.
"Alex?" Sophia asked, her smile faltering as she watched the color drain from his face. "Is something wrong with the market?"
"My... my card," Alexander choked out, his fingers fumbling as he tried to open his banking app. The app screen refreshed, displaying a running tally of charges that had just crossed the two-hundred-thousand-dollar mark in less than five minutes.
"What kind of card is that?" Sophia asked, leaning in.
"The black card," Alexander whispered, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. "I left it... I left it on the table for Erin."
The phone buzzed again. Alert: $35,000.00.
And right beneath it, a text message from the bank’s concierge line popped up: "Dear Mr. Grant, your secondary cardholder has initiated 37 consecutive high-tier entertainment and catering bookings totaling $384,500.00 in twenty minutes. Would you like us to place a total freeze on all primary accounts?"
Alexander stood up so fast his chair crashed backward against the floor of the upscale Carlyle restaurant, turning the heads of every elite diner in the room.
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"Alex! Where are you going?" Sophia cried out, mortified.
"My house," Alexander snarled, his eyes wide with blind panic. "My wife is burning my accounts to the ground."
