Chapter 4 - The Shadow in the Boardroom
The morning sun cast long, amber shadows across my office on the top floor of Reynolds Industrial.
On my desk, three separate corporate laptops sat open, displaying legal briefs, forensic accounting reports, and security audits. For the past twelve hours, I hadn't slept a wink. While Lena rested under heavy sedation at a secure, private medical facility across town, Derek and I had been waging a war behind the scenes.
The door pushed open, and Derek walked in, carrying two steaming cups of black coffee and a thick manila folder stamped with a red confidential seal.
"How is she?" Derek asked, sliding a cup across the mahogany surface.
"She woke up an hour ago," I replied, rubbing my tired eyes. "The doctor says the radius is going to take eight weeks to heal properly, and the psychological trauma is going to require intensive therapy. But she’s breathing on her own, and for the first time in three years, she doesn't have to look over her shoulder wondering if Travis is listening through the door."
Derek grunted, pulling out a chair and sitting down heavily. He tossed the manila folder onto my desk.
"You might want to take a look at that. Our corporate investigators dug into Travis’s personal accounts yesterday afternoon. Turns out the golden boy isn't just a brutal husband; he’s also a thief."
I raised an eyebrow, flipping open the folder. Inside were bank statements, wire transfer receipts, and offshore shell company registry documents.
"Explain," I said.
"Travis has been systematically embezzling funds from his father’s real estate trust fund for the past eighteen months," Derek explained calmly, leaning back. "To the tune of roughly 1.4 million dollars. He’s been funneling the cash into high-risk cryptocurrency schemes and maintaining a luxury apartment downtown for a woman named Brittany, who works as a hostess at the country club."
I stared at the financial records, a cold smile slowly spreading across my face. "Does Judge Miller know about this?"
"Not yet," Derek said. "The trust is managed through a subsidiary shell corporation that Travis had full administrative access to. His father trusts him blindly—or at least he did, until now."
"Judge Miller is currently trying to spin a narrative in the local press that Lena is an unstable addict who fabricated the assault," I said, sliding the papers back into the folder. "He thinks he can use his judicial immunity and political cronies to bury us in court."
Derek cracked his knuckles, a faint, dangerous grin touching his lips. "Judges only have power inside a courtroom, brother. Outside of it, they're just men with secrets."
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"Get our PR firm on the phone," I instructed, standing up and buttoning my suit jacket. "We aren't just going to defend Lena against slander. We’re going to hand Judge Miller his son’s financial executioner’s axe, and let him swing it himself."
"Already dialed," Derek said, pulling out his cell phone and sliding it across the desk toward me. "The reporter from the Daily Tribune is waiting in the lobby. She says she has front-row seats for a very interesting public meltdown."
