Chapter 8 - The Audit of the New Life
By the following autumn, the transformation of Catherine Bennett’s world was complete in every conceivable dimension.
The firm formerly known as Vale-Henderson Logistics had been completely liquidated, its assets auctioned off to satisfy federal tax liens, while Jason Bennett sat in a federal penitentiary in Oxford, Wisconsin, serving a six-year sentence for wire fraud and forgery.
His name had become a cautionary tale in the financial columns of the Chicago Tribune—a classic example of a man who tried to build an empire on stolen sand and ended up buried beneath his own foundation.
And Catherine?
She was no longer the woman who apologized when strangers bumped into her in crowded restaurants.
She was Catherine Romanov now—not by legal coercion, but by a quiet, deliberate choice made one starlit evening in the library of the estate on the East River, when Nikolai had slid a simple platinum band across a wooden desk and asked her to help him manage the rest of his ledgers.
On a crisp October morning, exactly one year after the night she spilled iced coffee on a six-thousand-dollar suit, Catherine sat at her desk in the Michigan Avenue showroom, reviewing the master operational budget for the upcoming winter gala.
The door chime chimed softly.
Nikolai walked in. He had discarded his suit jacket, wearing a dark cashmere sweater over an open-collared shirt, carrying two coffees and a small box of pastries from her favorite bakery.
He set them down on the mahogany desk, leaned over, and pressed a quiet, lingering kiss to the crown of her head.
"You've been looking at spreadsheets for six hours, Mrs. Romanov," he murmured, his gravelly voice rich with amusement. "Even the federal reserve takes a coffee break."
Catherine looked up, a bright, radiant smile breaking across her face. She reached out, looping her arms around his neck, pulling him down until his forehead rested gently against hers.
"I'm not auditing corporate ledgers, Nikolai," she whispered, her eyes shining with absolute peace. "I'm just making sure our balance sheet is still perfect."
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Nikolai smiled—a rare, beautiful expression that belonged only to her.
"Trust me," he murmured, his hands resting securely at her waist. "We are indefinitely, permanently in the black."
