Chapter 6 - The Freezing of the Empire
Gregory’s fingers remained frozen over the mechanical keys of his laptop, the rapid clicking of his workflow brought to an abrupt, unnatural halt. For three agonizing seconds, the only sound in the house was the low, steady hum of the refrigerator.
Then, slowly, he turned his head around from the dining table. The warm, practiced facade of the doting husband was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating crease between his eyebrows.
“What did you say?” Gregory asked, his voice dropping an octave into a low, dangerous register.
I didn't flinch. I kept the water bottle pressed loosely against my palm, holding his gaze with the same icy composure I had mastered in the hospital trauma bay. I stepped out from the kitchen archway, walking slowly toward the dining room table where he sat.
“I said we need to talk about your accounts, Greg,” I repeated, my tone infuriatingly calm. “All of them. The subsidiary LLCs, the offshore holdings, the digital asset portfolios tucked away under fake corporate names. It’s quite an impressive portfolio for a senior accountant. You must be working overtime.”
Gregory’s chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor as he stood up, towering over me. The color drained from his face, leaving his skin a sallow, sickly grey under the chandelier light.
“You’ve been going through my private files,” he whispered, his voice shaking with sudden, uncontained fury. He lunged forward, slamming his palm down on the laptop keyboard to close it shut. “You had no right! Those are proprietary business documents—!”
“They are marital assets, Greg,” I cut him off, my voice sharp enough to slice glass. I stepped closer, invading his space just as he had invaded mine for years with his intimidation tactics. “Every single dollar you siphoned out of our joint accounts while I was working double shifts at the hospital. And the best part? The federal injunction was filed at your firm thirty minutes ago. By now, your senior partners are opening an emergency audit on your terminal.”
Gregory’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. He stared at me as if I were a complete stranger—as if the tired, submissive nurse he thought he had trapped was suddenly holding a loaded gun.
“You’re bluffing,” he snarled, though his voice cracked on the final syllable. He snatched his smartphone off the table, his thumb frantically swiping across the screen to check his email. “You don't have the legal standing. You don't have the capital. Vance & Sterling will crush you before the ink dries—!”
Before he could finish his sentence, his phone began to buzz violently in his grip.
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An incoming call from Arthur Sterling, his senior managing partner.
Gregory stared at the flashing screen, his breath catching in his throat as the reality of what I had done began to crash down around him.
