Chapter 7 - The Audit
By 3:00 AM, the chaotic noise of the wedding reception had long since faded into a distant memory, replaced by the hushed, sterile quiet of the Wentworth's executive penthouse suite.
The heavy steel box Josie had discovered earlier that evening sat open on a mahogany conference table. Inside rested a meticulous paper trail of corporate extortion, forged municipal signatures, and systematic embezzlement orchestrated through Brett Howerin's insurance firm—documents that directly implicated not only Brett, but several high-ranking city officials who had used his agency as a financial laundering conduit.
Julian sat across the table, casually swirling a glass of amber single-malt scotch, his expression unreadable as he scanned the final pages of the ledger.
""Well,"" Julian murmured, setting the papers down. ""Your husband was remarkably thorough in his criminality. I'll give him that. He was stealing from people who thought he was a saint, and borrowing from men who collect debts with broken bones."" He looked up, locking eyes with her. ""Which means he won't be in any position to bother you, your apartment, or your porch light ever again. By sunrise, federal marshals will have seized his office, and his creditors will have repossessed every asset bearing his name.""
Josie sat in a plush leather armchair, her delivery jacket draped over the back, her bandaged hand resting quietly in her lap. For the first time in six years, her shoulders didn't feel like they were carrying a collapsing roof.
""Why?"" she asked quietly. ""Why help me? You didn't even know me twenty-four hours ago.""
Julian leaned back, taking a slow sip of his drink. ""I hate bad architecture, Josie. Whether it's a building with a rotting foundation or a marriage built on intimidation and quiet cruelty. Some structures simply aren't worth renovating. You tear them down to the bedrock and build something unbreakable in their place.""
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He stood up, walking over to the window that overlooked the glittering skyline of Providence. The first pale streaks of dawn were beginning to break across Narragansett Bay, turning the dark water silver.
""Besides,"" Julian added with a faint, rare smile, ""my grandmother has been nagging me for years to find a woman with enough grit to break into my private study just to escape a bad husband. It shows excellent survival instincts.""
