Chapter 4 - ASHES OF AN EMPIREBy dawn the next morning, the headlines across every major financial publication blazed with letters ten feet tall:
MITCHELL MEDICAL COLLAPSES: FOUNDER ARRESTED IN MASSIVE FRAUD AND DOMESTIC ABUSE SCANDAL. WIFE RECLAIMS EMPIRE WITH STUNNING SURPRISE EVIDENCE.
I sat in the quiet sanctuary of my newly restored penthouse apartment—the penthouse Jason had tried to strip from me, now legally deeded entirely to my name by court order—sipping black coffee as the morning news broadcasted helicopter footage of federal agents hauling boxes of evidence out of Jason’s Midtown office.
The doorbell chimed softly.
I didn't jump. I didn't feel the familiar, sickening spike of adrenaline that used to grip my chest whenever I heard footsteps approaching the door during my marriage. I simply set my mug down on the marble counter and walked over to the entryway.
Through the security monitor, I saw her.
Madison Brooks.
She wasn't wearing her elegant white dress anymore. She wore a rumpled gray hoodie, her hair unwashed, her face pale and swollen from crying. She looked like a ghost of the woman who had mocked me in the courtroom just twenty-four hours earlier.
I pressed the intercom button. "You're wasting your time, Madison. The security guards downstairs won't let you past the lobby."
"Iris! Please!" Her voice cracked through the small speaker, desperate and raw. "Please, just let me talk to you for two minutes! They froze my accounts! They took my apartment, my car, my credit cards! I have nothing left!"
"You have exactly what you earned," I replied calmly. "You spent two years helping Jason hide stolen money, signing fraudulent wire transfers, and laughing while he systematically destroyed my life. You thought you were stepping into a queen's throne. It turns out you were just boarding a sinking ship."
"He lied to me!" she sobbed, pounding her fist against the lobby intercom camera downstairs. "He told me you were unstable, that you were divorcing him anyway, that the money was legally protected! He manipulated me!"
"Jason manipulates everyone, Madison. That's what sociopaths do," I said evenly. "And you were a very willing accomplice as long as the checks cleared and the designer bags kept arriving at your door. Now, if you don't leave the premises, my security team will escort you off the property for trespassing."
"Iris, wait! Please! I have something! Something Jason doesn't want anyone to find!" She choked on a sob, her hands flying to her face. "In his private safe—the wall safe behind the mahogany bookcase in his private study—there's a flash drive. Not the one the police took. A backup. It contains... it contains the names of everyone else involved. The investors who helped him cover up the clinical trial failures. The people who helped him silence... the other women."
I paused, my hand resting on the brass door handle.
"The other women?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave.
"Yes! There were others before me, Iris!" Madison cried out, desperate to throw anyone under the bus if it meant saving herself. "Encrypted files, audio logs, payoff receipts—everything! He recorded everything to keep them under his thumb! If you give me enough money for a plane ticket out of the country, I'll tell you the exact combination to the wall safe!"
I stared at the monitor for a long, silent moment. Then, a slow, cold smile spread across my face.
"Madison," I said softly into the intercom. "You don't need to trade information for a plane ticket."
"I don't?" She gasped, hope flickering in her ruined eyes. "You'll help me?"
"No," I answered. "Because the police are already walking out of the elevator behind you with a fresh search warrant for that exact safe. And as for your ticket out of the country... federal marshals have already flagged your passport."
The screen flickered as two uniformed officers stepped into view in the lobby downstairs, placing heavy hands on Madison's shoulders as she screamed in absolute despair.
May you like
I clicked the intercom off, turned away from the screen, and picked up my coat.
The empire was mine. But the cleanup had only just begun.
