Chapter 3 - The Cold Light of Morning
By 8:00 AM the following morning, the storm had cleared over Charlotte, leaving behind a sky as pale and sharp as shattered glass.
Derek Patterson sat at the kitchen island of his four-bedroom suburban home in Myers Park. His silk tie was undone, his hair disheveled, and his eyes bloodshot from a night spent drinking scotch and pleading with Candace over the phone.
Candace had left for her parents' house in Atlanta at midnight, taking her suitcases and threatening to sue him for fraud unless he produced a certified, court-stamped divorce decree by noon.
"Crazy bitch," Derek muttered, pouring another two fingers of amber liquid into his glass. He wasn't talking about Candace; he was talking about Simone.
He pulled up his online banking app on his laptop. He needed to transfer fifty thousand dollars from his joint investment account with Simone into an escrow account to prove to Candace’s family that he had liquid assets.
He typed in his password.
The screen flashed red.
ACCESS DENIED: ACCOUNT FROZEN BY COURT ORDER.
Derek frowned, tapping the keys harder. "What the hell?"
He refreshed the browser and checked his primary corporate account—the one tied to his boutique real estate development firm, Patterson Holdings.
ACCESS DENIED: ASSETS ATTACHED UNDER FEDERAL SUBPOENA.
His heart gave a sudden, violent thump against his ribs. He grabbed his smartphone and dialed his corporate accountant, Mark Sterling.
Mark answered on the first ring, his voice high and panicked.
"Derek! Where the hell are you?"
"Mark, what’s wrong with the online portal? The server is showing my accounts are frozen."
"It’s not a server glitch, Derek!" Mark shouted over the sound of shuffling papers. "Federal marshals walked into our office twenty minutes ago. They handed me a freezing order signed by a senior federal judge in Manhattan!"
"Manhattan?" Derek stood up so fast his chair fell backward onto the hardwood floor. "Why the hell would a Manhattan judge freeze my accounts? I don't even operate in New York!"
"They aren't just freezing your business, Derek," Mark said, his breath hitching. "They're auditing every transaction you've made since 2021. Every dollar you moved into the Cayman accounts, every offshore shell company you opened to hide assets from Simone during your fake divorce negotiations... they have everything!"
"Who gave them those records?" Derek screamed, his hand gripping the edge of the granite counter until his knuckles turned white. "Those accounts were encrypted! I used an offshore firm in Panama!"
"I don't know who gave it to them," Mark stammered. "But Derek... there's something else."
"What?"
"Look out your front window."
Derek slowly lowered the phone from his ear. He walked to the wide bay window looking out over the manicured front lawn.
A long, metallic-black Maybach pulled up to the curb, followed by two black suburban SUVs with dark tinted windows.
The door of the Maybach opened.
A tall man in an immaculate navy suit stepped out, holding a thin leather briefcase. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door.
A woman stepped out onto the pavement.
May you like
She wore a tailored ivory coat, high heels, and black sunglasses. Her dark hair was swept up in a flawless, professional bun. She carried herself with the calm, terrifying elegance of an absolute ruler inspecting a conquered territory.
It was Simone.
