of pain.
My heart had died the moment Jenna walked into my office.
Seeing their little performance, I found it almost funny. A smirk played on my lips. “You think this is going too far?” I asked calmly.” Andrew, compared to the filth you’ve been wading in, this is nothing.”
My voice dropped, taking on a sharper edge. “But since you’ve already accused me, I might as well do something to deserve it.”
Under the stunned gazes of everyone in the room, I walked to the large screen in the living room. I turned on the projector, inserted the flash drive my friend had given me into the connected laptop, and picked up the remote.
The screen flickered to life. And the room fell silent once more.
The arrogant, accusatory crowd was now frozen, their eyes glued to the images unfolding before them.
It was all there. Three years of evidence. Photos and videos of Andrew and Jenna’s affair. Timestamps, locations, receipts. Then came the financial records, showing his systematic transfer of assets in preparation for divorcing me.
Worse, it detailed every dollar my parents had invested in his company, every connection my family had provided, all laid bare for
his family to see.
Andrew’s face was ashen. He was in denial, shaking his head.
“No! This… this is all fake! You forged it all to frame me!”
He shoved Jenna aside, lunged for the remote in my hand, and then scrambled to the laptop, ripping the flash drive out. He threw them both to the ground and stomped on them until they were nothing but shattered plastic.
“It’s fake, Leslie,” he panted, turning to me with wild eyes. “Don’t believe it.”
I looked down at the wreckage on the floor, then back at him, my expression cold. “You can destroy that one. I have plenty of back- ups. And did you really think that’s all I found?”
09.57
09.57
Chapter 2
“What… what else?” he whispered, his voice cracking.
An image of him and Jenna playing happy family with my daughter, poisoning her mind, flashed through my head, and my anger surged. There was nothing left to hide.
I smiled, a merciless, chilling smile. “All that money you and your uncle and cousin have ‘lost‘ in bad business deals over the years… it wasn’t just business, was it, Andrew?”
“What? What are you talking about? Of course it was business!”
I didn’t bother arguing. I pulled another flash drive from my pocket and played a new set of files on the screen.
The first was an audio recording, the location tagged as a supply closet at his company. Andrew’s voice was clear.
“I don’t care how you do it, just get me that money. I need it urgently.”
“But Mr. Cole,” a nervous voice, the CFO’s, replied, “the other shareholders will have questions. This is company money. Shouldn’t you talk to Ms. Thorne? Maybe she can help?”
“Enough,” Andrew snapped. “This is my business. Just do as I say.”
Next, a series of grainy photos. His uncle and cousin, living large at a high–stakes poker table in an underground casino. Followed by wire transfers from Andrew’s account to theirs, explicitly marked for “debts.”
Seeing the undeniable proof, Andrew’s composure finally shattered. He had thought he was so clever, so discreet. He never imagi- ned his embezzlement and gambling would be exposed so thoroughly.
“Impossible!” he shrieked. “It’s all lies! Someone is setting me up!” He scrambled towards me and grabbed the hem of my pants, his last shred of dignity gone. “Leslie, we were married for years, you know me better than anyone! I would never do these things!”
