Chapter 3 - The House GuestFor the next three days, I operated entirely from my temporary office at Lawson Enterprise Solutions headquarters in downtown Phoenix.
I didn't text Trent. I didn't reply to Gloria's increasingly passive-aggressive messages regarding the "Monday deposit." I focused completely on working alongside Arthur Pendelton’s forensic accounting team.
By Thursday afternoon, Arthur’s team had uncovered the full scope of Trent’s deception.
Not only had Trent used G&W Luxury Living LLC to purchase three rental properties, but he had also listed Brooke Hayes as an "Administrative Consultant" on the LLC’s payroll, paying her a monthly salary of $2,500 funded directly by my monthly transfers.
Trent had literally been paying his mistress’s salary using my money, funneling it through his mother’s fraudulent company.
"This is grand larceny and civil conspiracy," Arthur said, tossing a thick blue binder onto my desk. "We’ve submitted the evidence to a judge in Maricopa County. The judge signed an emergency injunction two hours ago. All accounts associated with G&W Luxury Living LLC are frozen. A lis pendens has been placed on all three rental properties, blocking them from selling or refinancing."
"What about the Paradise Valley house?" I asked, sipping my espresso.
"The court granted an immediate Writ of Possession to Lawson Enterprise Solutions LLC as the sole titleholder," Arthur smiled, his eyes glinting with professional delight. "I’ve dispatched a team of private security guards, a locksmith, and a flatbed tow truck to the property. They will execute the possession order at exactly 2:00 p.m. today."
I looked at my watch. It was 1:15 p.m.
"I think I’d like to watch," I said, standing up and grabbing my blazer.
Meanwhile, back at the Paradise Valley estate, Trent was living his absolute best life.
He had spent the last seventy-two hours playing host to Brooke and her mother, showing off the sprawling property as if he were a casino mogul. They had spent the morning lying by the infinity pool, drinking expensive champagne that I had stocked in the climate-controlled wine cellar, and discussing remodeling plans for the master suite.
Brooke, wearing a silk robe she had found in my closet, laid her head on Trent’s shoulder as they stood in the grand foyer.
"Babe, I want to knock out this wall and make a giant walk-in shoe closet," Brooke cooed, trailing her manicured nails along the custom wood paneling. "And we need to change the art. Harper's taste was so old and boring."
"Anything you want, sweetheart," Trent bragged, wrapping his arm around her waist. "I told you I’d take care of you. Harper is probably crying in some cheap apartment right now, realizing she lost the best thing that ever happened to her."
"Did her monthly payment to your parents go through yet?" Brooke asked.
"My mom is checking today," Trent smiled. "Don't worry about money, babe. Harper’s firm makes millions. She won't dare stop paying. My lawyer said women like her always pay to avoid a messy scandal."
Suddenly, a loud, heavy thud echoed through the grand foyer.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Trent frowned, setting his champagne glass down on the console table. "Who the hell is knocking like that? I told the gate guard we weren't expecting deliveries."
He walked over to the massive iron-and-glass front door and pulled it open, an annoyed scowl plastered across his face.
"What is your problem—?" Trent started.
He froze.
Standing on the porch was not a delivery driver.
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Four burly, uniformed private security officers stood flanked around a man in an expensive navy suit holding a silver briefcase. Behind them, idling in the circular driveway, was a commercial locksmith van and a heavy-duty flatbed tow truck.
And standing right behind the tow truck, leaning against the hood of a pristine black sedan with her arms crossed, was me.
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