I slid the documents across the desk to him.
"I want to make sure that any debt Julian Woodward and Rachel Matthews run up out there—"
"—has nothing to do with me. Not a cent of it."
John Whitney flipped through the pages.
He pushed his glasses up.
"Ms. James, you're very thorough."
"Still, just to be safe, I'd like to check the current ownership status on that marital home."
"Go ahead."
He opened his laptop and logged into the internal system.
He entered the property deed number.
A few seconds later.
His brows pulled tight.
"Ms. James, something's off here."
"What is it?"
He turned the screen toward me and pointed at a line of red text.
"This house. Yesterday afternoon."
"That's three hours after the two of you finalized the divorce."
"Julian put it up as collateral on a high-interest loan."
"For three hundred thousand dollars."
I shot to my feet.
I stared at the mortgage record on the screen.
I almost laughed out loud.
Three hundred thousand!
To buy Rachel her prenatal supplements, to play the big man.
Julian had quietly handed the marital home over to a loan shark operation.
He thought Rachel's four-hundred-seventy-thousand-dollar buyout settlement would hit her account next month.
So he didn't care about the predatory interest on that three hundred thousand at all.
He'd cut off his own last way out with his own two hands.
"Lawyer Whitney."
I drew a deep breath and pressed down the wild joy rising in my chest.
"Print this mortgage record."
"Lock it in the safe with all the other legal documents."
Julian had cut off his own last way out with his own two hands.
I locked every legal document in the safe.
A morning a few days later.
I'd just walked into the company lobby, coffee in hand.
The front desk was mobbed, packed wall to wall.
A security guard was sweating through his shirt, trying to push the crowd back.
"Move along! Don't make a scene here!"
The crowd.
Julian's parents, in their old clothes.
Sitting on the marble floor, throwing a full tantrum.
"There's no justice in this world! Everybody come look at this poisonous woman!"
Julian's mother slapped her own thigh, screaming herself hoarse.
"Stealing my son's money! A shameless tramp!"
"Threw my son out, didn't even leave him a roof over his head!"
Julian's father held up a banner.
It read: Sabina James, Corrupt Executive—Married for Money, Robbed My Son, No Conscience Left!
Rachel cradled her showing belly.
She stood off to the side, eyes rimmed red, wiping at tears.
Crying out her accusations for my watching coworkers to hear.
"Sabina shoved me on purpose, fighting over the money."
"I almost lost the baby yesterday."
"She can't have children of her own, so she wants to kill mine."
"We only wanted the share of the money that belongs to Julian, and she won't even leave us a way to live."
Around them, coworkers who knew nothing started whispering and pointing.
"God, Director James always seems so cold and untouchable, who knew she was this vicious behind the scenes."
"Right? The girl's pregnant and she still pushed her to the brink."
"Bullying old people too. That's going too far."
Just then.
A loud bang.
The elevator doors opened.
The CEO came charging out, face like thunder.
He took in the scene in the lobby and went livid.
"Sabina! What the hell are you pulling here?"
He jabbed a finger at my face, shaking with anger.
"This company is where you come to work, not to drag us through the mud!"
"Right now! This instant! Get down on your knees in this lobby and apologize to them!"
"Make this go away!"
"Then hand in your resignation! Or I call the police and have you taken in!"
I stood there with my coffee.
Looking at him.
Before I could even open my mouth.
Julian came lunging out of the crowd.
His eyes were bloodshot, wild.
He hurled an envelope hard against my chest.
"Sabina! You bitch!"
"Hand over whatever's left in that account! Call it emotional damages!"
"Or I'll see you ruined in this company today!"
The envelope dropped to the floor.
A handful of forged medical bills spilled out of it.
I let the scraps of paper scatter around my feet.
I looked at the two of them, and the old couple wailing on the floor.
"You want me to get down on my knees and apologize?"
I let out a soft laugh.
It wasn't loud, but it carried a chill.
I reached out and opened the briefcase I had with me.
"Julian, do you think you've already won today?"
I took out a small, high-output projector.
Turned.
And plugged it straight into the big screen behind the front desk.
"Sabina! What are you doing! Haven't you embarrassed us enough?"
The CEO roared, trying to stop me.
I swept up the front desk microphone in the same motion.
And pressed the projector's display button.
The screen lit up.
A five-year-old bank statement appeared on it.
I held the mic, my voice booming through the speakers, filling the whole lobby.
"Rachel's buyout money was already blown five years ago!"
"Julian, the house you mortgaged, the money you threw in on top of it—"
"—it all went to a deadbeat buried under millions in online loans!"
