Chapter 4 - The House of Cards Collapses
Bradley stood in the center of the ultrasound room, his mind spinning so fast he felt physically nauseous. He looked at Tiffany, whose hysterical tears were no longer those of an innocent woman falsely accused, but of a fraud who had finally been backed into a corner.
"Fourteen weeks ago," Bradley muttered, his voice shaking as the math finally clicked in his brain. "Fourteen weeks ago... I was in Chicago for a conference. You were... you said you were visiting your sister."
Tiffany couldn't even look him in the eye. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking violently.
"Tiffany!" Bradley roared, stepping toward her, his face turning an angry, dangerous shade of crimson. "Whose baby is it?!"
"Get him away from her," the grey-suited attorney, Rachel, commanded calmly. The two security guards instantly stepped between Bradley and the examination table, their hands resting firmly on their utility belts.
"Mr. Mitchell," Rachel said, pulling a secondary document from her briefcase. "You need to leave the premises immediately. And while you are walking out, I suggest you check your corporate email. At 9:05 a.m., Vance Global Holdings executed its legal right to seize all primary physical assets of Mitchell Development LLC due to fraud and material misrepresentation of corporate funds."
"You can't do that!" Bradley yelled, his voice cracking with a desperate, child-like panic. "I am the founder! The penthouse is in my name!"
"The penthouse was used as collateral for the final construction loan you took out last month," Rachel smiled, a cold, victorious expression that mirrored Arthur Harrison’s style. "The loan that was approved based on financial ledgers you falsified to hide the fact that you were embezzling money to buy Ms. Vance’s affection. The penthouse now belongs entirely to our primary shareholder."
"And who the hell is your primary shareholder?!" Bradley screamed, his hands shaking so violently he could barely hold his phone.
Rachel looked at him with an expression of profound, mocking pity. "Your ex-wife, Sarah Mitchell. I believe she’s currently boarding a first-class flight to London. She leaves you with her compliments... and the bill for the dinner you claimed you couldn't afford."
Brittany let out a sharp, horrified gasp in the corner, her phone slipping from her fingers and cracking loudly against the marble floor. The live stream she had been so eager to broadcast had caught every single second of their complete, unmitigated ruin.
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Evelyn slumped back into her chair, her expensive tweed coat looking suddenly ridiculous as she stared at the ruined gift box on the floor.
Bradley fell to his knees, his phone finally slipping from his grip. A single notification flashed across the screen—an automated alert from his banking app: ACCOUNT BALANCE: $0.00. OVERDRAFT PROTECTION TERMINATED.
