Chapter 5 - The Fall of the House of Bennett
The silence in the fourth-floor executive office was so absolute that the hum of the climate control sounded like a distant jet engine.
Jason stood frozen behind his walnut desk, his hands gripping the wood so hard his knuckles had turned the color of chalk. His eyes darted from Daniel Brooks to the federal marshals standing by the double doors, and finally landed on Catherine.
The woman who had spent ten years letting him correct her grammar at dinner parties. The woman who apologized when he tracked mud across her newly cleaned floors. The woman he had planned to discard like a worn-out pair of shoes before lunch on a rainy Tuesday.
She looked at him the way an appraiser looks at a condemned building before calling in the demolition crew.
"Catherine..." Jason choked out, his voice cracking into a high, pathetic wheeze. "Catherine, what is this? What have you done? Tell these men there's been a mistake—we're husband and wife, we can sort this out at home—"
"We aren't sorting anything out at home, Jason," Catherine said, walking slowly toward his desk, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor with terrifying precision. "Because as of nine o'clock this morning, the home on Oakridge Lane is no longer yours."
She stopped two feet from him, pulled a folded legal document from her handbag, and tossed it onto his desk.
It landed right beside his cold Americano.
"What is that?" Jason whispered, staring at the blue-backed paper.
"A writ of immediate possession," Daniel Brooks answered smoothly, stepping forward to stand beside Catherine. "Filed under the primary mortgage note held by the Robert Miller Family Irrevocable Trust. Your home, your cars, and your personal bank accounts have been placed under a civil asset forfeiture hold pending the fraud investigation."
Allison let out a sharp, hysterical gasp, stepping back until her back hit the glass wall of the office. "My apartment? Jason, what about my apartment? You said my lease was guaranteed through the company!"
Jason didn't look at her. He couldn't. His entire field of vision had narrowed to the woman standing on the other side of his desk.
"You did this," Jason hissed, his face turning a dark, mottled purple, the polished corporate mask finally shattering into raw, naked rage. He lunged forward across the desk, his hand clawing toward her coat. "You ungrateful little bitch! You ruined everything I built!"
Before his fingers could graze her sleeve, a massive hand shot out from the shadows near the doorway.
Victor—Nikolai’s primary enforcer, who had slipped into the office unnoticed behind the federal marshals—caught Jason’s wrist in a grip of solid iron. With a sharp, effortless twist, Victor drove Jason back down into his leather executive chair so hard the springs groaned in protest.
"Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Bennett," Victor said, his voice flat, gravelly, and entirely devoid of human warmth. "The lady is speaking."
Catherine didn't flinch. She didn't blink. She reached out, picked up Jason’s expensive silver fountain pen—the one she had bought him for their tenth anniversary—and slipped it into her pocket.
"You called me emotional, Jason," she said softly, leaning down until her face was inches from his. "You told me I had no money, no career, and nowhere to go."
She straightened up, smoothing the front of her emerald-green dress.
"You were right about one thing. I had nowhere to go in the life you built for me."
May you like
She turned toward the double doors, motioning for Daniel and the marshals to follow.
"Good luck with your new career, Jason. I hear bankruptcy lawyers are always looking for interns."
