Chapter 1 - The Empty House
I sat in the secure conference room of my attorney's office while the hidden security cameras from my house streamed directly to my digital tablet.
My skin still throbbed with a fiery, unrelenting pain beneath the thick white bandages covering my neck and jaw.
The heavy front door of my house swung open on the screen, revealing Arthur walking inside with a confident, arrogant swagger.
Brooke followed closely behind him, laughing loudly at some cruel joke they had just shared in the driveway.
Neither of them noticed the glaring absence of my winter coat or my favorite shoes near the entryway.
Arthur marched straight into the kitchen, entirely expecting to find me crying and begging for his pathetic forgiveness.
Instead, he froze completely when he saw my diamond wedding ring resting silently beside the coffee mug that had ruined our marriage.
His face twisted into an ugly mask of pure rage as he snatched the ring off the wooden table.
He threw the expensive piece of jewelry across the kitchen, violently shattering a glass vase on the countertop.
Brooke rolled her eyes and told him that I was just throwing a childish temper tantrum.
Arthur pulled his smartphone from his pocket, furiously dialing my number to undoubtedly scream at me for my defiance.
Before the call could even connect, his phone screen began flashing with dozens of urgent fraud alerts.
I watched a look of absolute panic wash over his face as he realized every single one of his bank accounts had been frozen.
He sprinted down the hallway toward his private study, desperately punching the access code into the hidden wall safe.
The digital keypad beeped an angry red tone, permanently denying him access to the millions he thought he had successfully stolen.
Brooke rushed into the room, demanding to know why the safe was not opening for them.
Arthur collapsed into his leather chair, whispering that someone had entirely locked them out of the financial network.
Suddenly, a series of heavy, aggressive knocks echoed from the front porch.
Through the camera feed, I watched two uniformed police officers and a stern detective waiting on the doorstep.
Arthur cautiously opened the door, attempting to force a charming, innocent smile onto his pale face.
The detective held up a shiny badge and commanded Arthur to step outside regarding a severe domestic assault charge.
Arthur tried to slam the heavy oak door, but the officers quickly pushed their way inside and forced him against the wall.
I turned the tablet screen off, feeling an immense wave of satisfaction wash over my exhausted body.
My lawyer, Victoria, placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and warned me that this was just the very beginning of a long war.
She slid a thick, red manila folder across the polished mahogany table toward me.
I asked her what else her forensic accounting team had discovered during their extensive audit.
May you like
Victoria looked me dead in the eye with an expression of pure, unadulterated dread.
She told me that the woman living in my house was not actually Arthur’s sister.
