Chapter 6 - The Unraveling of Madison HughesWhile Victor was being read his rights in the corporate boardroom upstairs, twenty floors down in the lobby of the building, Madison Hughes was having the worst twenty minutes of her twenty-four-year-old life.
Madison stood near the revolving glass doors, clutching her designer leather tote bag—purchased with one of Victor’s illicit corporate expense cards—while two building security guards flanked her.
"I don't understand!" Madison protested, her voice rising in a shrill, panicked whine as she addressed the HR representative who had handed her the pink slip. "You can't just fire me! On what grounds? I’m a top-performing marketing coordinator!"
"On the grounds of conspiracy to commit corporate fraud, falsification of company invoices, and violation of employee ethics policies," the HR rep stated flatly, thrusting a box containing her desk plant and framed photos into her arms. "Your laptop and badge have been deactivated. Federal investigators are currently reviewing your company email server. Have a nice day, Ms. Hughes."
Before Madison could scream another protest, the revolving doors spun, and Victor was marched out of the elevator bay by two federal marshals, his hands cuffed behind his back, his head ducked low in utter humiliation.
"Victor!" Madison shrieked, dropping her box of belongings as it clattered across the polished marble floor, scattering pens and a ceramic coffee mug. "Victor, what is happening? Tell them this is a mistake!"
Victor didn't even look at her.
His eyes locked onto Jessica, who stood calmly by the elevators, watching the spectacle with cold, detached amusement.
"Jessica!" Victor yelled, straining against the marshals as they guided him toward the exit. "Jessica, please! Talk to them! Drop the charges! We can fix this! I'm sorry! I was drunk! Please!"
Jessica stepped forward, stopping just a few feet away from him. The noise of the bustling lobby seemed to fade into a distant hum.
She looked him up and down—at the cuffed hands, the sweaty brow, the total evaporation of his arrogant, drunken bravado from two nights ago.
"You were right about one thing, Victor," Jessica said softly, her voice carrying clearly across the lobby.
Victor blinked, a pathetic flicker of hope igniting in his bloodshot eyes. "W-what? What did I say?"
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"You said I wouldn't cry," Jessica replied, her lips curving into a razor-sharp smile. "And you were right. Some things aren't worth a single tear."
She turned on her heel, leaving him screaming her name to an empty corridor as the marshals shoved him into the back of a waiting federal cruiser.
