“My client kept meticulous records of your corporate accounting for the past three years. She noticed several… irregularities. Including the two hundred thousand dollars you funneled from your company’s operating budget to buy an apartment for your pregnant mistress.”
Bradley felt the blood drain from his head. “She hacked my company?”
“She was your wife, Bradley. She had the passwords you asked her to memorize. We forwarded her findings to the appropriate federal authorities.” Harrison paused, letting the silence hang like an executioner’s axe. “I suggest you head to your office. The IRS Criminal Investigation Division just walked into your lobby.”
The drive to the corporate office was a blur of blaring horns and suffocating panic. Bradley’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel of his Mercedes, swerving through Manhattan traffic. Brittany sat in the passenger seat, rapidly biting her nails, while Margaret hyperventilated in the back.
“This is a nightmare. Tell me this is a nightmare,” Margaret chanted, clutching her designer handbag like a life preserver.
Bradley didn’t answer. His mind was playing a vicious montage of the last six months. Sarah sitting quietly at the kitchen island, a cup of tea in her hand, asking innocent questions about his day. How is the new account doing, honey? Do you need me to file those receipts for you?
He had mocked her. He had called her simple. While he was out wining and dining Tiffany, Sarah was methodically downloading every single dirty secret his company possessed.
He slammed on the brakes outside his glass-fronted office building. He didn’t even bother to park legally; he threw the car in park and sprinted through the revolving doors.
The usually bustling lobby was eerily quiet. Employees stood in hushed clusters, their eyes wide and frightened. As Bradley burst through the security turnstiles, his CFO, Andrew, rushed toward him, his tie loosened and sweat beading on his forehead.
“They’re upstairs,” Andrew hissed, grabbing Bradley’s arm. “They locked down the entire financial floor.”
“Who?” Bradley demanded, though he already knew the answer.
“The IRS. Agents in windbreakers. They are boxing up the hard drives, Bradley. They have a warrant specifically detailing the offshore transfers and the real estate shell company you set up for Tiffany.”
“Get my corporate lawyers on the phone right now!” Bradley yelled, his voice cracking.
“I tried,” Andrew said, his voice dropping in despair. “Their retainer bounced an hour ago. Because of the freeze. They won’t lift a finger until they see a wire transfer.”
Bradley stumbled backward, hitting the cold marble wall. He was completely paralyzed. Without his money, he had no power. Without his power, he was nothing.
He forced his legs to move, taking the elevator up to the executive suite. The doors opened to a scene of absolute devastation. Men and women in federal jackets were methodically unplugging servers and sealing file boxes with red evidence tape.
A tall agent with a stern face walked up to Bradley, holding out a clipboard. “Mr. Bradley? Special Agent Miller, IRS CID. We are executing a search and seizure warrant regarding allegations of tax evasion and corporate embezzlement.”
“This is a misunderstanding,” Bradley stammered, his usual charisma evaporating into thin air. “My ex-wife… she’s vindictive. She doctored those files.”
The agent didn’t even blink. “The paper trail from the bank speaks for itself, sir. We will need you to step out of the office while we secure the premises.”
Bradley was shoved out of his own empire. He stood in the hallway, the fluorescent lights buzzing mockingly above his head. Brittany stepped off the elevator, taking in the scene with absolute horror.
“Bradley… what do we do?” she whispered, her arrogant facade entirely stripped away.
Before he could answer, his phone rang. It was Tiffany.
He stared at the caller ID, a surge of pure, unadulterated hatred rising in his chest. He answered it, his voice deadly quiet. “What?”
“Bradley, please!” Tiffany sobbed into the receiver, the background noise echoing like a hospital ward. “Your mother… she came back to the room. She was screaming at me. She threw my clothes in the hallway!”
“Good,” Bradley spat.
“You have to believe me! The doctor is wrong! I only slept with you!”
“Stop lying to me!” Bradley roared, no longer caring who heard him. “I am losing my company, my money, and my life because of you! Because of a child that isn’t even mine!”
“They took my blood, Bradley! They are rushing a prenatal DNA test. Please, just wait for the results!”
“I’m not waiting for anything. If that kid isn’t mine, you are dead to me. Do you hear me? Dead.” He hung up, blocking her number with a vicious swipe of his thumb.
He slumped against the wall, sliding down until he hit the floor. He had traded a loyal wife and a beautiful family for a lie that was currently dismantling his life piece by piece.
Andrew walked slowly out of the office suite, holding a single piece of paper. He looked at Bradley with a mixture of pity and disgust.
“What is that?” Bradley asked, his voice hollow.
“It’s from the bank holding the commercial loan on the building,” Andrew said softly. “Because of the federal raid and the frozen accounts… they are calling in the loan. If we don’t have three million dollars in liquidity by tomorrow morning, they are seizing the collateral.”
