Chapter 8 - The InheritanceThree days after the wedding, the legal fallout hit the front pages of every major newspaper. Judge Arthur Davies Arrested in Massive Municipal Corruption Scandal; Daughter's High-Society Wedding Ends in Federal Raid.
Caleb Reynolds wasn't mentioned in the main headlines, but the financial wreckage was absolute. The Davies family assets were frozen pending federal investigation, meaning Khloe’s multi-million-dollar dowry and the trust funds backing Caleb’s lavish lifestyle were locked up tight. Within forty-eight hours, the creditors Caleb had been dodging came out of the woodwork, seizing his sports cars, his custom wardrobe, and the luxury apartment he had rented to impress his new bride.
I was sitting in Roman’s private office at the Continental, reviewing a portfolio of commercial real estate holdings that had just gone into receivership, when my phone buzzed on the mahogany desk.
An unknown number. I swiped and answered.
"Sadi?" Caleb’s voice was barely recognizable. It was thin, cracked, and desperate, sounding like a man who had spent three days screaming into a void. "Sadi, please. You have to help me. Khloe’s family has cut me off, the apartment is cleared out, and my accounts are frozen. Roman... Roman has my contracts. He can make this go away."
I leaned back in the plush leather chair, spinning a gold-plated fountain pen between my fingers. The irony was almost poetic.
"Help you, Caleb?" I asked calmly, letting the silence stretch for a moment. "With what money? The money I was supposed to spend paying off your hidden debts?"
"I was stupid," he sobbed, the pathetic mask of upper-class arrogance completely dissolved. "I thought... I thought you were weak, Sadi. I thought I could use you and throw you away. Please, just talk to Roman. Ask him to drop the claims against my family's holdings."
"Caleb," I said, my voice dropping to a cool, level whisper. "When you wrote my name on that wedding invitation, you spelled it with an extra letter to remind me how irrelevant you thought I was. You wanted me to sit in the corner and watch you win."
"I'm sorry! I'll do anything—"
"Keep the extra letter, Caleb," I interrupted. "You're going to need it to sign your bankruptcy papers."
I hung up the phone, sliding it face down across the desk.
The heavy oak door opened quietly, and Roman walked in, holding two cups of black coffee. He set one down on the desk in front of me, his eyes drifting to the phone before meeting mine.
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"Was that our favorite debtor?" Roman asked, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
"That was a ghost," I corrected, taking a sip of the hot coffee.
