Chapter 4 - The Boardroom AwakeningBy Thursday morning, the corporate fallout began to merge seamlessly with the personal disaster.
I sat in Raymond’s glass-walled conference room on the thirty-fifth floor of a sleek Manhattan tower, wearing a cream maternity blazer that hugged my bump with quiet elegance. Across the glass table sat two senior partners and an accountant who had spent the last forty-eight hours dissecting every corporate holding, shell account, and marital asset tied to Dominic Marino.
“The timing couldn't be more advantageous, Mrs. Marino,” the accountant said, sliding a thick binder across the table. “Mr. Dominic is currently fighting fires on two fronts. Not only has his entire domestic household collapsed, forcing him to scramble for temporary catering and security, but the preliminary injunction we filed against his primary commercial real estate trust has frozen his liquid capital.”
I opened the binder, scanning the neat columns of numbers. Before marrying Dominic, I had spent five years as a senior risk analyst for a global hedge fund. I knew how to read a balance sheet better than he did; he had simply assumed that once I became a mother and a housewife, my brain had turned to mush.
“What about the Westchester commercial properties?” I asked, pointing to a highlighted line.
“Under New York marital property laws, and given the prenuptial clauses concerning undisclosed commingled business funds during the marriage, we can claim a seventy percent liquidation stake,” Raymond explained, offering a thin, approving smile. “And given that he attempted to transfer fifty thousand dollars into an undisclosed personal account yesterday afternoon—which our digital tripwires caught instantly—we have him dead to rights on dissipation of marital assets.”
My phone vibrated in my lap.
An unknown number. Then a text message preview: Please, Carrie. Let’s talk. Mother is refusing to speak to me, the lawyers are circling, and the house is falling apart. Name your terms.
I locked the screen, placed the phone face down on the table, and looked up at Raymond.
“Tell him my terms are very simple,” I said smoothly. “Full custody, the Westchester estate unencumbered transferred directly into my name, and a financial settlement that ensures my daughter and I never have to look at his face again.”
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“And if he refuses?” Raymond asked.
“He won't refuse,” I replied, standing up and smoothing my blazer. “Because Dominic Marino cannot survive a single week looking like a failure in front of his board of directors. And I am about to make sure the board learns every single detail of his incompetence.”
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