Chapter 4 - The Syndicate Debt
I stared at the man with the gun, my mind racing to process this terrifying new reality.
"I never signed any contract with a syndicate," I stated firmly.
The enforcer gestured toward the heavy folder resting on my hotel bed.
"Your husband provided a flawless digital signature and a copy of your passport," he explained coldly.
"He told my bosses that your tech company would guarantee the massive loan."
I slowly reached for the folder and opened it with trembling hands.
Inside was a legally binding contract, backed by my personal assets, promising to repay the dangerous cartel.
"He took the syndicate's money, stole my corporate funds, and blamed it all on me," I whispered in realization.
The enforcer tilted his head, seemingly intrigued by my genuine shock.
"If Christopher has our money, where is he hiding right now?" the man demanded.
"The police arrested him this morning for domestic battery," I answered honestly.
The man pulled out an encrypted phone and typed a rapid message to his contacts.
He stared at the screen for a few seconds before his eyes narrowed in absolute fury.
"You are lying to me," the enforcer growled, taking a menacing step forward.
"The police records show that Christopher Vance posted bail and was released three hours ago."
Panic flared in my chest.
If Christopher was out of jail, he was likely preparing to flee the country with the stolen millions.
"I am not lying," I promised quickly.
"If he is out, he is going to run, and neither of us will ever see that money again."
The enforcer studied my face, realizing that our goals were suddenly aligned.
"You have until midnight to help me find him, or I will hold you permanently responsible for the debt," he warned.
"I know exactly where he is going first," I told the dangerous man.
"He needs the physical bearer bonds his mother keeps hidden in a safe at my house."
We left the hotel immediately and drove in his armored SUV toward my suburban neighborhood.
We parked two blocks away and crept through the dense trees behind my property.
I peeked through the large glass windows of my luxurious living room.
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Christopher was not packing his bags or emptying the hidden safe.
Instead, he was passionately kissing a young, blonde woman who was definitely not his mother.
