Chapter 5 - The Counter-StrikeThe conference room on the forty-second floor of Vance-Sterling Capital was cold, quiet, and smelled of polished walnut and high-stakes ambition.
It was 10:00 a.m. on Monday morning. Seated around the massive glass table were Arthur Pendelton, my chief forensic accountant; Marcus Vance, my cousin and senior corporate litigator; and myself, dressed in a sharp charcoal pantsuit with my hair pulled back into a severe, commanding knot.
"The forensic audit is complete, Olivia," Arthur said, sliding a thick, tabbed binder across the glass toward me. "Your husband didn't just misappropriate funds. Through a series of complex shell corporations registered in the Caymans and Delaware, Derek systematically gutted your personal trust, siphoning approximately 14.2 million dollars over the last six years."
Marcus leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his arms with a predatory grin. "And because those funds were funneled using fraudulent power-of-attorney documents—which bear forged signatures from your father's estate executors—this crosses the line from a messy divorce into federal white-collar crime. Wire fraud, grand larceny, and corporate forgery."
I opened the binder, scanning the neat rows of numbers, bank routing codes, and fraudulent transfer slips. Every single line represented a piece of my life that Derek had stolen while playing the devoted, successful husband at my dinner parties.
"How quickly can we freeze his corporate assets?" I asked, my voice chillingly calm.
"We already filed the emergency injunction with the state supreme court at 8:30 this morning," Marcus replied smoothly. "By noon, all of Rollins & Associates' operating accounts, commercial real estate holdings, and personal credit lines will be frozen. He won't even be able to buy a cup of coffee with company funds."
"And the personal residence?" I asked.
"The deed to the Connecticut estate was originally purchased under your maiden name's family trust before Derek had it transferred," Arthur noted, adjusting his glasses. "We filed a fraudulent conveyance claim an hour ago. The house legally reverts back to you within forty-eight hours. He’ll be locked out before he even leaves the hospital."
I closed the binder with a soft, decisive thud.
For months, Derek had believed he was the master puppeteer, pulling the strings of his wife, his mistress, and his corporate empire. He thought he was untouchable.
"There's one more thing," Arthur added, hesitating slightly as he slid a final, separate document across the table. "Regarding Amanda and your brother Ryan."
I raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"
"Our audit revealed that Amanda wasn't just having an affair with Derek. She was acting as a silent partner in one of his dummy corporations. She received three hundred thousand dollars in 'consulting fees' from Rollins & Associates over the past eighteen months—money that was directly skimmed from the family accounts you thought were being invested safely."
A cold rage, sharp and bright, flared in my chest. Amanda hadn't just betrayed my brother's bed; she had helped finance her own luxury lifestyle by stealing from the very family that welcomed her in.
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"File her as an unindicted co-conspirator in the asset freeze," I instructed quietly. "If she wants to keep her freedom, she can spend her time testifying against Derek in federal court."
Marcus chuckled, gathering his papers. "Consider it done, Olivia. Welcome back to the shark tank."
