Chapter 5 - The Corporate Takedown
Monday morning arrived with the force of a hurricane.
Daniel’s arraignment hearing took place at 9:00 AM. Eleanor, my attorney, attended on my behalf, arguing fiercely against his release. The judge, seeing the medical reports of my fractured ribs, set his bail at $50,000. Because I had drained our joint accounts, Daniel had no liquid cash. He had to use a bail bondsman, putting up his luxury sports car—which he barely owned—as collateral just to secure his freedom.
When Daniel walked out of the county jail on Monday afternoon, wearing the same wrinkled suit from Friday night, his nightmare was only just beginning.
While he was sitting in a cell, I had been busy.
Daniel worked as a senior portfolio manager at a highly prestigious, ultra-conservative wealth management firm in the city. They catered to high-net-worth clients who demanded absolute integrity from the people handling their money. The firm had a strict, zero-tolerance morality clause in their employment contracts. Any employee arrested for a violent felony was subject to immediate termination.
At 8:00 AM that morning, Eleanor had couriered a certified legal packet to the firm’s HR department and the CEO. It contained the police report, the arrest record, and a copy of the emergency restraining order I had filed against Daniel over the weekend.
But I didn't stop there.
While reviewing Daniel’s credit card statements over the weekend, tracing where his massive debts had come from, I found something else. Hotel charges. Expensive jewelry purchases shipped to an address across town. Dinners at five-star restaurants on nights he claimed to be working late.
The woman from his office. The one he went on "business trips" with. Her name was Chloe, and she was a junior analyst at his firm.
When Daniel finally turned on his dead cell phone outside the jail, he was bombarded with voicemails.
The first was from his boss, informing him that his employment had been terminated with cause, his access badge was deactivated, and his personal belongings would be mailed to him.
The second voicemail was from Chloe.
I had sent her an anonymous email containing screenshots of his zero-balance bank accounts, his massive loan debts, and his arrest record for domestic violence. Chloe, realizing her wealthy, handsome sugar daddy was actually a broke, violent criminal, didn't hesitate.
“Daniel, it’s Chloe. Do not ever contact me again. I told HR everything about us to save my own job. You are a monster, and you’re broke. We are done.”
Sitting in his car, Daniel screamed, pounding his fists against the steering wheel until his knuckles bled. In the span of seventy-two hours, he had lost his wife, his home, his mother’s respect, his six-figure career, his mistress, and every penny he claimed to have.
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He was entirely, utterly ruined.
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