Chapter 5 - The Trap Springs ShutThree days later, the trap was set.
I had spent the interim staying at the luxury hotel, working closely with Arthur Vance’s team of forensic accountants to map out every single financial footprint Calvin and Stephanie had left behind. We had uncovered even more than I initially realized: credit card statements showing luxury vacations to Cabo San Lucas billed as "client development," designer boutique purchases filed under "office stationery," and apartment lease payments for a luxury high-rise in River North—rented under Stephanie's name, but funded entirely by Calvin's corporate wire transfers.
It was Thursday afternoon at 2:00 p.m. when my phone finally rang.
It was Calvin.
I let it ring twice before swiping to answer, pressing the phone to my ear with an air of absolute boredom.
“Brooke, where the hell are you?” Calvin’s voice barked through the speaker. He sounded panicked, out of breath, and furious. “My corporate accounts have been frozen! The bank just called me saying there’s an emergency federal injunction on Vantage Point’s operating capital! And my business partners are locked in a closed-door meeting demanding an immediate audit!”
“Is that so?” I replied mildly, sipping my iced green tea from the hotel lounge.
“Did you do this?” he snarled, his voice rising in pitch. “Did you sick some ambulance-chasing divorce lawyer on my business? Are you out of your mind? You’re destroying my company!”
“Your company, Calvin?” I asked, letting a sharp, icy edge enter my tone. “Funny, for the last four years you told me that everything we had was our company, built on your hard work while my career was just a worthless hobby.”
“Listen to me very carefully, Brooke,” he threatened, dropping his voice into a low, dangerous growl. “You need to call off whoever you hired right now, or I swear to God I will fight you in court for every penny. You’ll walk away with zero—not a single dime of alimony, not a piece of furniture, nothing. You’ll be begging on the street!”
“You might want to check your email before you make empty threats, Calvin,” I said smoothly. “There’s a certified package waiting for you at your office reception desk. It contains copies of the forensic audit report detailing the eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars funneled into Apex Holdings LLC.”
Dead silence crackled over the phone line.
You could almost hear the exact moment Calvin’s brain short-circuited.
“A-Apex... what?” he stammered, the bravado evaporating instantly.
“Apex Holdings,” I repeated clearly. “Stephanie’s shell company. You know, the one where you’ve been hiding your corporate embezzlement while starving our joint accounts? Turns out, mail fraud and embezzlement are federal offenses, Calvin. And since we were legally married when you initiated those wire transfers, guess whose name is also tied to those corporate liabilities? Mine. Which means my legal team had no choice but to report the financial discrepancies directly to the federal authorities and your corporate board to protect my own interests.”
“You... you reported us to the board?” Calvin choked out, horror gripping his voice. “You reported me to federal authorities?”
“I protected myself,” I corrected sharply. “Enjoy your meeting with the board, Calvin. Try not to sweat too much—it ruins expensive suits.”
I hung up the phone.
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I didn't block his number. I didn't need to. Because within ten minutes, my phone began vibrating like a hyperactive insect with missed calls from Calvin, missed calls from Stephanie, and frantic text messages from both of them alternating between screaming abuse and begging for mercy.
I ignored every single one of them.
