Chapter 4 - The Audit of a Lifetime
“You did this,” Thad whispered, his voice cracking with sheer disbelief as he took a trembling step toward me. “You engineered this entire thing.” I didn’t shrink back; I walked slowly into the center of the sterile room, letting the hospital linoleum click beneath my shoes. “You and your family spent five years treating me like a decorative servant, Thad,” I said, my voice cutting through the silent room with absolute chilling clarity. “You assumed that because I loved you, I was blind. You thought my quiet nature meant weakness. But every single financial document, every shady offshore transfer your father made before he died, and every fraudulent tax filing your brother tried to sweep under the rug has been meticulously documented and handed over to the federal tax division over the past twelve months.” Talia Brennan stepped into the room beside me, holding up a thick stack of federal indictment warrants. “Furthermore, Mr. Bromel, our forensic audit has uncovered systematic embezzlement of pre-need funeral trust funds—money paid by grieving families that your firm illegally diverted to fund your personal lifestyle and your mistress’s downtown condo.”
Marisol burst into hysterical tears, sinking into a bedside chair. “Thad, fix this! Call our lawyers! Do something!” Thad looked like a drowning man grasping at straws, his arrogance completely shattered. He dropped to his knees right there on the hospital floor, ignoring the disapproving gasps of the nurses. “Coraly... please,” he begged, his voice breaking into a pathetic whine. “We’ve been married. We share a home. Have mercy. Let’s talk about a settlement—we can go to counseling, we can fix our marriage!” I looked down at the man who, less than an hour ago, had dropped divorce papers on my blanket and told me I had served my single biological purpose. “Fix our marriage?” I repeated coldly. “You handed me divorce papers twenty-four hours after I gave you a vital organ, Thad. You told me I wasn't needed anymore.”
Dr. Oay stepped into the doorway, crossing her arms over her navy scrubs with a grim, satisfying smile. “And speaking of that organ, Mr. Bromel... under the emergency medical lien provisions authorized by the state medical board when a recipient’s family commits material fraud against an organ donor, my legal team has already filed a provisional repossession petition.” Thad’s eyes bulged out of his head. “You can’t do that! That’s murder!” Dr. Oay scoffed lightly. “Nobody is murdering your mother, Mr. Bromel. But if your family’s assets are fully liquidated to pay back the millions you stole from the public trusts, your mother’s ongoing anti-rejection immunosuppressant medication—which costs over five thousand dollars a week—will no longer be covered by your defunct corporate insurance. Unless, of course, the new owner of Bromel Enterprises decides to grant a charitable medical waiver.”
