Carol and Josephine chased after him, their designer heels clicking frantically against the linoleum as they tried to catch up.
“Nicholas, stop walking!” Josephine demanded, “Tell me what the CFO said about our money.”
Nicholas ripped his arm away, his chest heaving as if he could not pull enough oxygen into his lungs.
“We lost the three main accounts,” he said, “almost ten million in revenue is gone along with the penalty fees.”
Carol swayed, putting a hand to her chest as if she were going to faint from the sudden stress.
“Lord almighty,” she cried, “how could this happen today of all days in our lives?”
A young woman from the billing department approached them tentatively, holding a terminal to process their payment.
“Excuse me, Mr. Nicholas,” she said, “the card you placed on file for Miss Melanie’s care package was declined today.”
Josephine rolled her eyes and pulled out her own platinum card, acting as if money were no object for them.
“Honestly, the incompetence is staggering,” she said, “just run mine instead.”
The clerk swiped it, and a harsh beep echoed through the corridor, signaling the end of their financial security.
“I am sorry, ma’am, but it says transaction error,” the clerk said, and Josephine looked offended.
“That is impossible, I have no limit!” she snapped, but the clerk told her the system was flagging the account.
Nicholas felt a cold, venomous dread coil in his gut as he realized his empire was truly falling apart.
He ripped his wallet from his pocket and threw his black corporate card on the counter for the clerk to process.
“Use this one, and hurry up!” he demanded, but the screen flashed a bright, aggressive red indicating an injunction.
“Sir, all your accounts are locked,” the clerk said, and her voice dropped to a nervous whisper that made the family panic.
Nicholas snatched the card back, his hands shaking violently as he dialed his private banker on speed dial.
The phone barely rang once before the frantic voice of his account manager answered the call.
“Nicholas, I was just about to call you,” the banker said, “it is an absolute disaster.”
“Why are my cards declining?” Nicholas bellowed, “Why is my sister’s card declining as well?”
“A judge signed an emergency ex parte injunction an hour ago,” the banker explained, “every single account is frozen.”
Nicholas’s teeth ground together so hard his jaw ached, and he asked who the hell filed such a motion.
“It was filed by a man named Maxwell, representing his client, Giselle,” the banker said, and the name hit like a freight train.
Giselle, the quiet housewife who had barely spoken above a whisper for the last six months, had finally stood up for herself.
“That is impossible!” Nicholas breathed, “She does not have the money for a lawyer like that, nor the grounds.”
“She provided the judge with a mountain of evidence,” the banker continued, “including wire frauds and corporate embezzlement.”
“The judge locked everything down, and you have zero liquidity to pay for anything right now,” he concluded.
The phone slipped from Nicholas’s grip, clattering onto the polished hospital floor as his world finally fell apart.
“Nicholas, what is it?” Carol cried, and she grabbed his arm to shake him back to his senses.
Nicholas looked at his mother, his eyes completely hollow as he realized the scale of his defeat.
“Giselle, she froze the money, and she took every single cent we had,” he said in a daze.
“That little mouse!” Josephine shrieked, “I will kill her for doing this to us right now!”
Before Josephine could reach for her phone, Nicholas’s screen lit up on the floor with a number he did not recognize.
He picked it up slowly, pressing it to his ear as he braced himself for the worst.
“Hello?” he said, and the deep, calm voice of Maxwell echoed through the speaker.
“Mr. Nicholas, this is Maxwell, and I am calling as a professional courtesy to your legal situation.”
“You listen to me, you ambulance chaser!” Nicholas started to yell, but Maxwell cut him off smoothly.
“I suggest you save your breath,” Maxwell said, “the court has granted our motion regarding your assets.”
“But that is the least of your concerns right now,” he added, and Nicholas asked what he was talking about.
“My client kept meticulous records of your corporate accounting for the past three years,” the lawyer explained.
“She noticed several irregularities, including the money you funneled to buy an apartment for your mistress,” he continued.
“She hacked my company?” Nicholas accused, but Maxwell laughed at the idea of his incompetence.
“She was your wife, and she had the passwords you asked her to memorize for your convenience,” he noted.
“We forwarded her findings to the appropriate federal authorities,” Maxwell said, letting the silence hang heavy.
“I suggest you head to your office,” he advised, “the IRS criminal investigation division just walked into your lobby.”
The drive to the corporate office was a blur of blaring horns and suffocating panic for the disgraced businessman.
Nicholas’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, while Josephine sat in the passenger seat biting her nails.
Carol was in the back hyperventilating, clutching her designer handbag like a life preserver in a storm.
“This is a nightmare,” she chanted, “I need someone to tell me it is just a dream.”
Nicholas did not answer, his mind playing a vicious montage of the last six months of his foolish behavior.
He remembered me sitting quietly at the kitchen island, asking innocent questions about his day to gather information.
“How is the new account doing?” I had asked him, “Do you need me to file those receipts for you?”
He had mocked me and called me simple, while he was out dining with Melanie and ignoring his responsibilities.
He slammed on the brakes outside his office building, not bothering to park legally as he sprinted into the lobby.
The usually bustling area was eerily quiet, with employees standing in hushed clusters and looking at him with fear.
As he burst through the security turnstiles, his CFO, Andrew, rushed toward him with sweat beading on his forehead.
“They are upstairs,” Andrew hissed, “they locked down the entire financial floor of the building.”
“Who?” Nicholas demanded, though he already knew the answer as he felt his life crumble around him.
“The IRS, and they are boxing up the hard drives right now with a warrant for your arrest,” Andrew said.
“They have a warrant specifically detailing the offshore transfers and the shell company you set up for Melanie,” he added.
“Get my corporate lawyers on the phone!” Nicholas yelled, but Andrew shook his head in despair.
“I tried, but their retainer bounced an hour ago because of the freeze, so they will not lift a finger,” he said.
Nicholas stumbled backward, hitting the cold marble wall as he realized he was truly alone in his disaster.
He took the elevator up to the executive suite and found men and women in federal jackets working with efficiency.
A tall agent with a stern face walked up to Nicholas, holding out a clipboard for him to sign.
“Mr. Nicholas, Special Agent Miller, IRS CID,” the man said, “we are executing a search warrant for embezzlement.”
“This is a misunderstanding,” Nicholas stammered, his usual charisma evaporating into thin air before the agent.
“My ex wife is vindictive, and she doctored those files,” he claimed, but the agent did not blink at his lie.
“The paper trail from the bank speaks for itself,” the agent said, “we will need you to leave the office now.”
Nicholas was shoved out of his own empire, and he stood in the hallway as the fluorescent lights buzzed mockingly.
Josephine stepped off the elevator, taking in the scene with absolute horror as she realized they were finished.
“Nicholas, what do we do?” she whispered, and her arrogant facade was entirely stripped away by the reality of the situation.
