“You lying bitch!” Linda screamed, lunging forward, spit flying from her lips. “You hid marital assets! You planned this! We will sue you for half of that money! We will drag you through court! What’s yours is his!”
I calmly reached into my designer purse. I pulled out a secondary, stapled packet of documents. I tossed it onto the oak table, right on top of the useless trust paperwork.
“Not marital assets, Linda,” I said coldly. “Inheritance. Completely protected by state law. It was never comingled. Ethan has absolutely no legal claim to a single cent of it.”
Ethan stared at the second packet, his eyes wide, bloodshot, and frantic. “What is that?” he whispered.
“That,” I tapped the thick stack of paper, “is a fast-tracked petition for divorce based on severe financial infidelity.”
Ethan physically staggered backward, bumping into the couch. “Sophia, please…”
“Since you forged my signature to use this jointly-owned house as collateral for your bridge loan yesterday,” I continued, my voice a lethal, unyielding weapon, “my lawyers have already filed an emergency injunction. A judge signed it an hour ago. All of your personal and business accounts are currently frozen pending a full forensic audit for mortgage fraud and forgery.”
As the blood drained entirely from Ethan’s face, and the horrifying, catastrophic realization that he owed millions of dollars to highly dangerous, violent lenders without a single cent to pay them back finally took hold, the heavy oak front door of our home suddenly shuddered.
Three violent, deafening, aggressive knocks echoed through the foyer.
Chapter 4: The Collection
The heavy oak front door didn’t wait to be answered. It was violently pushed open, the deadbolt splintering the doorframe with a sickening crack.
Three men stepped into the foyer.
They weren’t wearing ski masks or carrying baseball bats. They were wearing sharp, expensive, tailored suits. But their eyes were entirely dead. They possessed the cold, predatory stillness of men who did not negotiate, did not feel pity, and did not leave without what they came for.
The lead man, a towering figure with a thick neck and a jagged scar across his jawline, slowly pulled back his suit jacket, revealing the dark, heavy metal of a holstered firearm. He didn’t draw it. He just wanted us to know it was there.
He casually checked his expensive gold watch.
