Chapter 7 - The Secret Accounts
"Officer Reynolds will take your formal statement at the station tomorrow morning, Mrs. Adams," the second officer said politely as he followed his partner out.
"Thank you, Officer," I replied.
Arthur turned his attention back to Mark, who was still kneeling on the floor, looking broken and hollow.
"Mark," Arthur said, adjusting his glasses. "While Zoe was driving over here, our forensic team ran a quick audit on the joint corporate accounts you manage."
Mark's head snapped up. All the color that had momentarily returned to his face evaporated into sheer terror.
"What... what forensic team?" Mark stuttered. "Those are private business accounts!"
"Nothing is private when the operating capital is drawn from Chloe's revocable trust," Arthur replied, pulling out a tablet. "In the last eight months, you transferred four hundred and eighty thousand dollars from the family trust account into an offshore shell company registered in Delaware under the name 'Peterson Heritage Holdings.'"
Eleanor stopped sobbing. She blinked, looking between Arthur and her son. "Peterson Heritage? Mark... what is that?"
"It’s an embezzlement scheme," Zoe stated bluntly. "Mark was siphoning Chloe’s trust fund to set up a private investment portfolio in his own name. He was preparing to file for divorce in the spring, Eleanor. He was planning to take the money, leave Chloe with nothing, and pretend he made it all on Wall Street."
"Mark?" Eleanor whispered, genuine horror creeping into her voice. "You stole from your wife?"
"I didn't steal!" Mark shouted, his voice cracking with hysteria. "It was our marital money! I was building a future for this family! She controlled everything! Every dollar, every property! I was tired of being the kept husband!"
"You were a kept husband because you failed at every venture you ever started," I said, stepping closer to him. "I gave you four million dollars to start three different companies. You lost all of it on bad crypto trades, sports cars, and private jets to impress your friends. I never said a word because I thought you loved Lily. I thought we were a team."
I looked around the grand room—the room I had paid to renovate, the table I had bought, the dinner I had financed.
"Pack your bags, Mark."
May you like
"Chloe, please—no! We’re married! You can't just kick your husband out!"
"Actually," Arthur smiled, "the deed is solely in the Adams Trust. You signed a postnuptial agreement waiving all rights to real property acquired prior to and during the marriage using non-commingled funds. You are a trespasser. Leave now, or Sergeant Reynolds will be making a second trip tonight."
