It was a level of financial suicide so spectacular, so mind-bogglingly reckless that it defied all logic. They were literally sitting on a ticking time bomb, smiling and shaking hands with the man they had just robbed. I stared at the screen, calculating the legal fallout. Warren Jefferson was a man who destroyed ruthless competitors before breakfast.
When he discovered that his future in-laws had breached his investment fund using fraudulent credentials, he would not just cancel the wedding. He would unleash a fleet of corporate attorneys to annihilate them. He would bury Richard and Brenda under so many civil suits and criminal complaints that they would never see the light of day.
And because my name was on the dotted line because my identity had been weaponized, I was standing squarely in the blast radius. I reached for the trackpad ready to export the documents to a secure server to prepare my own legal defense. I needed to generate the exact IP logs showing the loan was originated from this very laptop.
I needed absolute irrefutable proof that I was the victim, not the perpetrator, before Warren Jefferson’s auditors caught the discrepancy. But before my finger could press the key, the heavy brass door knob turned with a sharp click. I had not locked the door. The thick mahogany panel swung wide open, casting a long dark shadow across the Persian rug.
I snapped my head up, my hand, freezing over the keyboard. Standing in the doorway, holding a crystal glass of bourbon, was Terrence. His dark eyes immediately bypassed me and locked directly onto the brightly lit computer screen, taking in the unmistakable federal financial documents, the loan amount, and the bold letters of his own family’s corporate logo.
The heavy mahogany door clicked shut. Terrence stood in the dimly lit library, the amber liquid in his crystal glass catching the faint light from the desk lamp. I stepped away from the laptop, my mind racing to formulate a legal defense. I fully expected him to drop his drink. I expected him to shout for the authorities upon discovering that his future in-laws had systematically defrauded his family investment fund.
Instead, Terrence took a slow, deliberate sip of his bourbon. A cold, chilling smirk spread across his handsome face. He walked toward the desk with the relaxed, predatory stride of a man who held all the cards. ‘You always were the nosy one,’ Caroline Terrence said smoothly, his deep voice devoid of any surprise or anger.
