Chapter 8 - The Price of Treachery
Three hundred miles away, in a cramped, noisy real estate office on the outskirts of Fort Lauderdale, Ashley Cole was learning her own lesson about the architecture of consequence.
Her luxury sports car had been repossessed three months prior to settle outstanding legal bills from her SEC deposition. The designer dresses, the emerald jewelry Grant had bought with embezzled company funds, and the custom leather luggage had all been sold at a fraction of their value to pay off her aggressive criminal defense attorney.
Now, she sat at a battered laminate desk beneath buzzing fluorescent lights, cold-calling elderly retirees to pitch time-share condominiums in marginal coastal developments.
Her phone rang. It was an internal transfer from the front desk.
“Ashley? You have a call on line two. Someone from Bennett Capital Executive Staff.”
Ashley’s heart seized. Bennett Capital?
She scrambled for the handset, smoothing down her cheap polyester blouse as if the caller could see her through the wire. A wild, delusional surge of hope flared in her chest. Had they realized her potential? Were they reaching out to settle the remaining civil cross-claims?
“This is Ashley Cole,” she purred, adopting the polished, breathy executive tone she had used during her days as Grant’s communications director.
“Ms. Cole,” a crisp, professional voice replied. “This is the legal compliance division of Bennett Systems Enterprise. We are calling to provide formal notification that the United States District Court for the Northern District of Illinois has approved the final restitution schedule regarding the Mercer Systems liquidation.”
Ashley’s throat went dry. “Restitution? I was never convicted of a felony! I signed a non-prosecution agreement!”
“You signed a non-prosecution agreement regarding the criminal wire fraud indictments, Ms. Cole,” the voice stated with mechanical precision. “However, you were named as a primary respondent in the civil judgment regarding fraudulent conveyance of corporate funds—specifically the unauthorized luxury travel, personal stipends, and jewelry expenditures charged to Mercer Systems operating accounts between January and October.”
Ashley gripped the edge of the desk, her manicured acrylic nails digging into the cheap particle board. “That was Grant’s fault! He gave me those things! He was the CEO!”
“As an officer of the corporation holding the title of Vice President of Communications, you had a legal and statutory duty of care,” the representative continued, unbothered by her rising panic. “The court has established a joint civil liability of three hundred and eighty thousand dollars. Under Florida statutory enforcement of foreign judgments, a wage garnishment of twenty-five percent has been served on your current employer, effective today.”
“Twenty-five percent?” Ashley shrieked, several co-workers turning in their cubicles to stare at her. “I barely make minimum wage plus commission here! I can't afford to pay rent if you take twenty-five percent!”
“Then we suggest you negotiate a higher commission structure with your sales director, Ms. Cole,” the voice said smoothly. “The payments will continue until the restitution balance, plus nine percent statutory interest, is satisfied in full. Have a productive afternoon.”
The line went dead.
Ashley slammed the phone down, burying her face in her hands as silent, furious tears ruined her heavy makeup. Across the room, the office manager stepped out of his cubicle, holding a clipboard.
“Cole!” the manager barked, tapping his pen against the board. “You’ve been off the phone for four minutes. If you don't hit your dial quota of eighty calls before five o'clock, you’re off the rotation for the weekend shift. Get dialing.”
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Ashley looked up at the cheap motivational posters taped to the water-stained drywall. She thought of the private room at Bellamy House, the vintage Dom Pérignon, the taste of roasted truffles, and the intoxicating sensation of looking down at Claire Bennett from the pinnacle of Grant’s borrowed mountain.
She picked up the plastic headset, her fingers shaking as she dialed the next number on her call sheet."
