Chapter 3 - The Forensic Net
By 7:30 the next morning, I was sitting in the high-rise conference room of Vance & Sterling LLP, overlooking the gray skyline of Manhattan. Steam rose from my black coffee, untouched beside a stack of red-flagged bank files.
Elena Vance marched into the room, tossing a thick manila folder onto the glass table. At fifty-two, Elena was a shark in bespoke Italian wool. She had handled my family's corporate acquisitions for a decade, and she didn't possess an ounce of mercy for men like Trent.
"It's worse than we thought, Laurel," Elena said without preamble, dropping into the leather chair opposite me. "That collateral sheet you found was just the tip of the iceberg."
I took a slow breath, bracing myself. "How bad?"
"Trent submitted that forged document to First Horizon Commercial Bank three weeks ago. He secured a line of credit for four point two million dollars." Elena leaned forward, her gaze intense. "And he didn't put it into the media studio. Within forty-eight hours of funding, three million of that cash was routed through an LLC registered in Delaware called 'Golden Oak Holdings.'"
"Golden Oak?" I frowned. "I've never heard of it."
"Of course you haven't," Elena said with a grim smirk. "Because the registered owner of Golden Oak Holdings is Brielle Montgomery."
A cold weight dropped into my stomach. It wasn't just an affair. It wasn't just a midlife crisis disguised as a romance with an intern half his age. It was a calculated, premeditated heist. Trent had intended to use my credit and my commercial assets to fund a massive cash reserve under Brielle's name, divorce me, and claim he was broke during the asset division.
"He tried to clean me out," I whispered, the final remnants of any lingering grief transforming into icy, razor-sharp resolve.
"He tried," Elena agreed, tapping the folder. "Except the idiot used a notary public who used to work for your father's venture group. The moment we flagged the signature anomaly this morning, First Horizon's compliance division froze the entire account. The four point two million is locked down. Trent can't touch a single penny."
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"And the studio?"
"The eviction notice was served to his office manager twenty minutes ago," Elena smiled, showing teeth. "Trent's arriving at the building right now. And I believe the local paparazzi might just happen to be lingering near the front steps."
