Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2 — The Desperate Plead
Two days later, the sky opened up, pouring heavy rain over the city streets.
I was sitting in my private office, reviewing the forensic audit of Tucker’s hidden offshore accounts.
The network of shell companies was complex, but it was amateurish compared to what my firm dealt with daily.
My assistant, Clara, knocked lightly on the heavy oak door before opening it.
“Ma’am, there’s someone here to see you without an appointment.”
I frowned, not looking up from the balance sheets. “Tell them to schedule with you.”
“I tried, but she’s refusing to leave. It’s... it’s Melanie, ma’am.”
My pen stopped mid-signature.
Melanie. The sister-in-law who had mocked me as coffee burned my skin.
The woman whose greed had been the catalyst for her brother’s downfall.
“Send her in,” I said smoothly, leaning back in my leather executive chair.
A moment later, the door creaked open, and I barely recognized the woman standing in the frame.
The designer clothes were gone, replaced by a cheap, damp raincoat.
Her perfectly manicured nails were chipped, and her face looked drawn and exhausted.
She clutched a worn handbag to her chest, shivering slightly in the air conditioning.
“Hello, Melanie,” I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion.
She flinched at the sound of my voice, taking a hesitant step forward.
“You look... you look powerful,” she whispered, her eyes darting around the luxurious office.
“I am exactly what I have always been,” I replied coldly. “What do you want?”
She swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes.
“My beauty studio is gone. The bank took my apartment. I have nothing.”
“You pleaded guilty to attempted bank fraud,” I reminded her. “Actions have consequences.”
“I know! I know I was wrong. I was stupid, and I let Tucker manipulate me.”
“You laughed while my face blistered, Melanie. Don’t play the victim now.”
She broke down sobbing, collapsing into one of the guest chairs.
“Please. I can’t find a job with my criminal record. I’m living in my car.”
I stared at her, feeling not an ounce of pity.
I had built a fund to help innocent victims, not accomplices to my own torment.
“I am not writing you a check, Melanie. The door is behind you.”
She panicked, leaning forward and gripping the edge of my desk.
“Wait! Please! I have something you want. Something about Tucker.”
That caught my attention. I didn’t speak, merely raising one eyebrow.
“He’s planning something,” she whispered frantically, looking over her shoulder as if we were being watched.
“He called me from prison last week. From a smuggled cell phone.”
I sat forward, lacing my fingers together on the desk. “Go on.”
“He said he has friends on the outside. People who are going to make you pay for humiliating him.”
“The three million offshore,” I stated.
Melanie’s eyes widened in shock. “You know about that?”
“I know everything. Who are his friends, Melanie?”
She shook her head, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
“I don’t know their names. But Tucker called them the ‘Viper Group.’ He said they were coming for the Phoenix Fund.”
“They want to destroy your reputation so the courts will reverse the asset seizures.”
I studied her face. She was terrified.
Tucker had always been arrogant, but associating with organized crime was a new low.
“Clara!” I called out.
My assistant appeared instantly.
“Get Melanie a hot cup of coffee. And cut her a cashier’s check for five thousand dollars.”
Melanie gasped, looking at me as if I were an angel of mercy.
“Consider it payment for services rendered,” I said, my tone turning to ice.
“But if you ever set foot in my building again, I will have you arrested for trespassing.”
She nodded violently, scurrying out of the room after Clara.
I picked up my phone and dialed Rachel’s private number.
“Rachel, we have a name. The Viper Group.”
“I’m looking into them right now,” Rachel promised.
May you like
Tucker thought he could strike at me from behind bars.
He was about to learn that my reach extended much further than the prison walls.
