Chapter 4 - FREEZING THE ASSETS
By Monday morning, the tremor had turned into an earthquake.
Ethan arrived at the Calder Rowe tower at 6:30 AM, hoping to get ahead of the rumors. He swiped his security badge at the private executive elevator.
BEEP-BEEP. ACCESS DENIED.
Ethan stared at the red light on the scanner. He swiped again.
ACCESS DENIED.
“Mr. Whitmore.”
Ethan turned to see David Vance, the head of building security, standing in the marble lobby. Behind him stood two uniformed guards.
“David, my badge is malfunctioning,” Ethan said, forcing a laugh.
“It’s not malfunctioning, sir,” David said softly, looking uncomfortable. “I have orders from Human Resources and the Executive Committee. Your access to the building has been suspended pending an internal compliance review. I’ve been instructed to escort you to Conference Room B on the ground floor.”
“Conference Room B?” Ethan demanded, his voice rising. “I’m a Senior Partner! I don’t get interrogated in the visitor rooms.”
“Please, Mr. Whitmore. Don’t make this difficult.”
Ethan swallowed his pride and followed the guards. Inside the glass-walled room sat Margaret Thorne, the firm’s ruthless Chief Compliance Officer, and Joel Harris, the Managing Partner Ethan had lied to Claire about having dinner with.
“Sit down, Ethan,” Joel said, his face carved from stone.
“Joel, what is this?” Ethan pleaded. “If this is about Marcus Calder misunderstanding a personal argument—”
“It’s not about Marcus,” Margaret interrupted, sliding a thick file across the table. It looked identical to the black binder Claire had left on his desk. “Though Mr. Calder did request a full audit of your expense reports on Saturday afternoon. Do you want to explain why thirty-four thousand dollars of firm entertainment funds were used for hotels in Rhode Island, jewelry from Tiffany, and a leased apartment on Newbury Street?”
Ethan felt the room spin. “That’s a mistake. I can reimburse the firm. It was an oversight with my corporate card.”
“An oversight is a sixty-dollar steak,” Margaret said coldly. “Thirty-four thousand dollars over two years is embezzlement, Ethan. We have strict morality and financial conduct clauses in the partnership agreement. You’ve exposed this firm to immense liability.”
“My wife is doing this,” Ethan scrambled, throwing Claire under the bus without hesitation. “She’s bitter. She’s trying to frame me during a divorce—”
“Actually,” Joel said quietly, “your wife sent us a very polite email yesterday. She provided documentation showing that she attempted to flag these expenses to you, assuming they were fraudulent charges by a third party. She included the timestamped IP logs showing you authorized them.”
Ethan was speechless. Claire hadn't just left him; she had systematically dismantled his defense before he could even build it.
“Effective immediately, you are suspended without pay,” Margaret announced. “You will surrender your firm phone and laptop. If the audit confirms the embezzlement, the board will vote on your termination on Friday. I suggest you find a very good lawyer.”
Ethan walked out of the building an hour later, carrying his personal belongings in a cardboard box. He hailed a cab, his mind racing. He had one sanctuary left. Savannah.
He directed the driver to the Newbury Street apartment. He still had the key.
When he unlocked the door, the apartment was in chaos. Designer clothes were strewn across the velvet sofa. Savannah was frantically packing a Louis Vuitton trunk.
“Savannah?” Ethan asked, dropping his box.
She spun around, her eyes red, her makeup smeared. “Oh. You’re here.”
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m leaving!” she snapped, tossing a pile of silk blouses into the trunk.
“Leaving? Where are you going? We need to stick together. Claire is trying to ruin me, but I can fight this—”
“Fight this with what, Ethan?” Savannah yelled, turning on him. “My card declined at the salon yesterday! I called the property manager to ask about the rent, and they told me the account connected to this apartment has been frozen! The landlord is threatening eviction!”
“It’s temporary! My lawyers will lift the freeze.”
“I don’t care!” Savannah threw her hands up. “You told me you were getting a quiet, easy divorce! You told me she was a mousy, compliant little housewife who wouldn't put up a fight. She humiliated me in front of half of Boston! And now you’re broke?”
“I am not broke!” Ethan roared, stepping toward her. “I’m a millionaire!”
“On paper!” Savannah shot back. “And she has the paper! You lied to me, Ethan. You said you built everything. But according to that old man at the restaurant, she built you. I’m twenty-eight years old. I am not spending the best years of my life fighting a scorned wife in court for pennies. I’m going to my sister's in New York.”
May you like
Ethan watched in stunned silence as the woman he had thrown away his marriage for zipped up her suitcase, walked past him without a second glance, and slammed the door behind her.
He was entirely, utterly alone.
