Chapter 7 - The Scavengers at the Gates
The morning sun cast long, clean shadows across the polished concrete floors of Lumina. For the first time in five years, I woke up without a cold knot of dread twisting in my stomach. There was no text from Lucas whining about his golf schedule, no frantic voicemail from Beatrice demanding a VIP table for her bridge club, and no looming threat of hidden financial sabotage waiting in the mailbox.
My phone, however, was vibrating off the bedside table by 7:15 AM.
When I picked it up, the screen was flooded with missed calls and urgent text notifications from Lucas. He had clearly spent the entire night cycling through stages of panic, denial, and furious rage.
Lucas (7:02 AM): Camilla, answer your phone right now. What kind of insane stunt are you pulling? My corporate cards are declined, my personal checking account is showing a zero balance, and the locks on our garage were changed by a locksmith last night!
Lucas (7:14 AM): My lawyer says your attorney filed an emergency asset preservation injunction backed by forensic audits of the business accounts. You can't just lock me out of my own life! We are married! Half of everything here is mine!
I stared at the messages with a detached, clinical amusement. He still genuinely believed that his last name and his casual presence in my life constituted equity.
Before I could even toss the phone back onto the mattress, it rang. Caller ID flashed: Lucas.
I swiped the screen and clicked speakerphone, placing it on the nightstand while I walked over to the closet to pull out my chef's jacket.
"Camilla!" Lucas’s voice boomed through the speaker, frantic and shrill. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you completely out of your mind? The police told me this is a civil matter when I tried to report the house lockout, and my attorney is looking at your filings like they're written in Greek. Open the bank accounts back up right now, or I swear to God I'll drag you through a custody—wait, we don't even have kids—I'll drag you through a divorce court until you're bankrupt!"
"Good morning, Lucas," I said smoothly, my voice as calm as a glacial lake. "Did you sleep well? I imagine the guest suite at your downtown corporate office isn't quite as comfortable as the memory foam mattress at home."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "You... you knew about the downtown loft?"
"Lucas, let's not insult each other's intelligence any further," I replied, buttoning my jacket. "Marcus Vance and his team of forensic accountants didn't just audit the restaurant accounts; they tracked every unauthorized wire transfer you made over the last twenty-four months to fund your lifestyle, your downtown lease, and your expensive gifts for your little paralegal companion. Every single cent of corporate funds diverted from Lumina to your personal slush accounts has been meticulously documented and attached to the criminal embezzlement referral currently sitting on the San Diego District Attorney's desk."
Silence fell over the phone line—a heavy, suffocating silence.
"You wouldn't..." Lucas stammered, his bravado instantly evaporating into pure terror. "You wouldn't send that to the DA. We're husband and wife! Think of what it would do to my career at the firm—"
"Your career at the firm is already over, Lucas," I interrupted softly. "By 9:00 AM this morning, your senior partners are receiving copies of the exact same financial audit. Embezzlement from an LLC wholly owned by a spouse using corporate identity fraud tends to make commercial real estate firms very nervous about liability. I suggest you start packing your desk."
"Camilla, please—let's talk about this like adults," his voice dropped into a pathetic, pleading whine. "My mother was just trying to help yesterday! She didn't mean any harm with that paper transfer, she was just confused about—"
May you like
"Your mother is currently trying to figure out how to pay off a twenty-eight-thousand-dollar restaurant bill on a maxed-out platinum card without your help," I cut him off. "And you are going to sign the uncontested divorce papers Marcus sends to your office today, or you can spend your next few years explaining to a federal judge why you treated my business checking account like your personal ATM. Your choice."
I hung up the phone before he could draw another breath.
