Chapter 7 - The Archives of Maro House
The ground-floor study was a massive, wood-paneled room lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with rare volumes, leather ledgers, and historical maps of New York Harbor.
Nicholas sat behind a massive oak desk, reviewing a stack of incoming property deeds.
When Ava knocked lightly on the open double doors, he looked up.
"Come in, Miss Sullivan," he said, gesturing to the leather chair opposite his desk.
Ava walked in, keeping her posture straight. "Mrs. Gable said you needed me to review correspondence?"
"Not correspondence," Nicholas corrected, sliding a thick brown manila folder across the mahogany surface toward her. "Financial audits from the past three quarters. I want you to cross-reference the logistics invoices from the Brooklyn docks against the municipal tax filings."
Ava opened the folder, her eyes scanning the columns of numbers with professional ease. Years of organizing lesson plans, managing household budgets on a shoestring, and auditing school fundraisers had given her an eye for detail that most corporate assistants took years to develop.
Within three minutes, her finger stopped at a discrepancy on page four.
"This entry," Ava said, pointing to a row of figures. "The municipal tax credit for the Terminal B warehouse doesn't match the shipping volume billed by Sullivan Development."
Nicholas raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Go on."
"Sullivan Development billed for forty container slots, but the city tax credit only covers twenty-eight," Ava explained, her voice gaining confidence. "Either the city miscalculated their rebate, or Sullivan Development has been padding their operational invoices by nearly thirty percent."
A slow, approving smile touched the corners of Nicholas’s mouth—a rare expression that made him look remarkably dangerous.
"They were padding them," Nicholas said quietly. "For over two years. Your husband thought my accountants wouldn't bother auditing regional logistics ledgers."
Ava looked down at the papers, a wave of bitter anger washing over her. "He lied about everything," she whispered. "Every contract, every investment, every word."
"People like Daniel Sullivan build their entire lives on sand," Nicholas said, his voice dropping into a steady, grounding cadence. "When the tide comes in, nothing is left."
He stood up from his desk and walked over to the tall French doors leading out to the private garden.
"Your divorce papers were delivered to my office this morning by Daniel’s attorney," Nicholas said without turning around. "He’s asking for a swift, quiet dissolution of the marriage on the grounds of abandonment—claiming you left the marital home voluntarily."
Ava stood up, her hands clenching into fists. "He’s lying! He locked me out of the accounts and told me not to come back!"
"I know," Nicholas turned around, his dark eyes fixed firmly on hers. "Which is why my legal team took receipt of those papers instead."
He walked back toward the desk, picked up a pen, and slid a different set of documents across the wood toward her.
"What is this?" Ava asked, looking down.
"A counter-petition," Nicholas said evenly. "Filed under my legal counsel. We are suing for full custody, complete financial restitution of all assets commingled during the marriage, and an emergency restraining order preventing Daniel Sullivan from coming within five hundred yards of you or your daughter."
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Ava stared at the papers, her throat tightening with sudden emotion. "Mr. Maro... this will cost a fortune in legal fees. I can't possibly—"
"Consider it an advance on your salary, Miss Sullivan," Nicholas interrupted smoothly. "Or better yet, consider it a reminder of how business is conducted when you have someone in your corner who doesn't fold at the first sign of a storm."
