Chapter 4 - The House of Cards
The chaotic noise spilled out onto the sidewalk as confused guests began streaming through the double doors, muttering among themselves and checking their phones. Lorraine Reeves, Andre’s mother, pushed her way outside looking mortified, her expensive shawl clutched tightly around her shoulders as she demanded to know what kind of cheap circus her son had thrown.
And then there was Andre. He burst through the heavy metal door a second later, his designer suit jacket discarded, his tie loose, and sweat glistening on his forehead. He scanned the sidewalk frantically until his eyes locked onto my car parked right by the curb.
He sprinted across the pavement, yanked my passenger door open, and stared at me with wide, panicked eyes.
"Dany! What did you do?" he hissed, his voice cracking with a mixture of rage and sheer terror. "The DJ just walked out! The bar is shut down! The caterers are threatening to call the police because the payment bounced! Everyone is looking at me like an idiot!"
I turned my head slowly, looking at him as if he were a minor clerical error that required immediate filing. "You told me to leave, Andre. You said it was your night."
"Stop playing games!" he yelled, leaning into the car. "Fix it! Call the bank! Transfer the money right now! My regional directors are in there, my mother is screaming, and Brianna is asking why the party is falling apart!"
"Brianna can help you pay for it," I replied evenly, my voice entirely devoid of emotion. "Oh, wait—she's a twenty-seven-year-old marketing coordinator living on a junior salary. I suppose she can't."
Andre froze. The blood rushed back to his face, turning it a dark, mottled purple. "How... how do you know about—"
"I know about everything, Andre," I interrupted, tapping the screen of my phone where Marcus had just sent me the preliminary asset-freezing injunctions for our joint bank accounts and residential properties. "I know about the hotel rooms, the second bank account, the embezzlement of your department's travel funds that you used to buy Brianna's jewelry, and the fact that you think you're the master of your own universe."
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He staggered backward, gripping the open door frame for balance. "Dany, please... we can talk about this. Don't ruin me in front of my colleagues. We can go home and—"
"There is no home, Andre," I said, putting the car into gear. "The house is under my corporate entity. The accounts are frozen. And tomorrow morning, my divorce attorney is filing papers that will leave you with exactly what you brought into this marriage: nothing."
