Chapter 2 - The Audit Begins
Beatrice stepped forward, her face twisted in theatrical sorrow and sharp irritation. She tapped her designer umbrella against the linoleum floor, glaring at my cast as if my broken bone were a personal insult aimed directly at her.
"Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is, Evelyn?" Beatrice hissed, dabbing at her dry eyes with her handkerchief. "My poor husband passed away four days ago! My house is filled with prominent members of our community, business associates, and relatives who came to pay their respects! And where is my daughter-in-law? Lying in a hospital bed making up excuses about a sore leg!"
"Mother, don't bother wasting your breath on her," Bradley said smoothly, placing a comforting hand on Beatrice’s shoulder while keeping his cold eyes fixed on me. "She thinks because she had a minor traffic bump, she can throw a tantrum and demand a divorce. She doesn't understand how the real world works."
Bradley pulled out his leather wallet, extracted a black corporate credit card, and tossed it onto my hospital bed table like he was throwing a dog a bone.
"Take an Uber home right now," Bradley commanded. "You can stand at the stove on one leg or sit on a barstool while you cook. You are going to prepare the seafood roast, the roasted meats, and the side dishes for my mother's guests. Once the event is over tonight, you will apologize to my mother on your knees for this disgraceful behavior."
I didn't touch the credit card. I looked up at Bradley, taking in his polished shoes, his expensive watch, and the inflated sense of ego that pulsed through his veins.
"And if I refuse?" I asked softly.
Bradley leaned down until his face was inches from mine, his voice dropping into a cruel whisper. "If you refuse, I will lock you out of the house tonight. I will freeze the joint bank account before the sun sets. I will file an emergency motion in court claiming you abandoned the marriage, and I will make sure you don't receive a single cent of alimony. I built Pinnacle Logistics' regional revenue, Evelyn. I have judges, lawyers, and politicians in my golf club. You are a nobody with no family, no job, and no money. You survive because I allow you to survive."
I looked past Bradley's shoulder. Standing in the doorway of the ER cubicle was Carter Vance, dressed in a sharp charcoal three-piece suit, carrying a leather briefcase. Behind him stood four stern-faced men and women in dark business attire—the lead auditors of Pinnacle Holdings' Corporate Compliance Division.
Carter caught my eye and offered a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. The audit was officially active.
"Bradley," I said, keeping my gaze locked onto my husband's eyes. "Did you ever stop to wonder how a 'nobodies' like me managed to secure your promotion to Regional Director three years ago?"
Bradley burst out laughing, shaking his head in pity. "My promotion? I earned that promotion through hard work and brilliant strategy! The executive board recognized my genius! What could a pathetic housewife like you possibly have to do with the corporate structure of Pinnacle Logistics?"
"You're right," I said, a cold, serene smile appearing on my lips. "You earned everything that is about to happen to you."
Before Bradley could reply, his mobile phone vibrated violently in his jacket pocket.
He frowned, pulling the phone out and looking at the screen. His arrogant demeanor flickered for a fraction of a second when he saw the caller ID: CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS - AUDIT & COMPLIANCE.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance, tapping the screen to answer. "McMillan here. I'm currently dealing with a personal family emergency, so whatever this is—"
"Mr. McMillan!" a panicked voice shouted through the receiver, loud enough for Beatrice and me to hear clearly. "Where are you?! The internal audit team from Pinnacle Holdings just arrived at the regional headquarters! They’ve locked down the server room, seized all financial ledgers, and frozen all outgoing wire transfers!"
Bradley’s face drained of color. "What?! What are you talking about? Corporate compliance doesn't do unannounced audits without six weeks' notice!"
"They brought a federal court order and a directive signed directly by the Board of Directors!" the employee yelled back. "They're auditing the procurement accounts, the vendor contracts, and your personal regional expense reports! They're looking into the three million dollars transferred to the 'McMillan Holding Group' offshore account last month!"
Bradley’s phone nearly slipped from his fingers. His knees visibly buckled, and he had to reach out to grab the edge of the hospital gurney to stabilize himself.
"Three million dollars?" I asked softly, raising an eyebrow at him. "That sounds like a very serious corporate discrepancy, Bradley."
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"Shut up!" Bradley screamed at me, his eyes bloodshot, panic finally breaking through his arrogant facade. He turned toward the phone, sweating profusely. "Tell them to stop! I'm the Regional Director! They can't access those files without my security clearance!"
"They don't need your security clearance, Mr. McMillan," the voice on the phone squeaked nervously. "The order came from the absolute top. The Chairwoman herself authorized the investigation."
