Chapter 3 - Frozen Assets
Kelsey Adams sat in the VIP lounge of Bergdorf Goodman, sipping complimentary champagne with her legs crossed comfortably. Her hand rested gently over the slight swell of her belly, the five-carat diamond ring I had thrust into her palm the day before glittering beneath the chandelier. Across from her, three store associates were holding up couture maternity dresses and designer baby blankets woven from organic cashmere.
"Put them all on Mr. Whitmore’s house account," Kelsey purred, waving a French-manicured hand dismissively. "And wrap the crocodile Birkin in the display window. My fiancé wants me to have something special after the stress of yesterday."
The store manager bowed deferentially. "Right away, Ms. Adams. Let me just run the authorization through Mr. Whitmore’s corporate platinum card."
Two minutes later, the manager returned, but the sycophantic smile was gone. His posture was rigid, his eyes avoiding Kelsey's gaze.
"I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Adams, but the charge did not go through."
Kelsey gave an airy laugh. "Nonsense. Try it again. It has an unlimited line. Evan is the CEO of Whitmore Freight."
"I did try it, ma'am. Three times. The transaction was flagged as a *revoked corporate credential*. The automated terminal informed us that the card has been canceled due to termination of corporate authority."
Before Kelsey could scream at the man, the glass doors of the VIP suite were pushed open. Evan stumbled in, his tie loosened, his hair disheveled, and sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Evan!" Kelsey stood up, her face flushed with indignance. "Your card is declining! These people are treating me like a common shoplifter! Tell them who you are!"
"Kelsey, put the bags down," Evan hissed under his breath, gripping her elbow tightly. "We have to leave. Now."
"Leave? What do you mean leave? I haven't bought the stroller yet!"
"She took the building, Kelsey!" Evan yelled, heedless of the other shoppers turning to stare. "Clara marched into the boardroom with three teams of attorneys. She stripped my executive privileges. They cleared my office! They threw my things into cardboard boxes on the curb!"
Kelsey blinked, her voice dropping to a panicked squeak. "What about your personal accounts? The trust fund?"
"The corporate accounts *were* my trust fund!" Evan panicked, grabbing his hair. "Everything was tied to the holding company! My black card, the gas allowances, the maintenance on the yacht—she froze it all pending a forensic audit!"
Just then, Evan's smartphone vibrated violently in his palm. It was an automated notification from his private bank:
*ALERT: Joint liquidity reserves under Whitmore Family Trust #4 have been placed under a forty-eight-hour statutory freeze by order of the Chairman of the Board.*
"She can't do this," Evan muttered, staring at the screen in pure disbelief. "She was just a schoolteacher when I met her. She didn't know anything about finance. She washed my shirts! She took my mother's abuse for five years!"
"Evan," Kelsey said, her voice shaking as she looked down at the pile of unpaid luxury goods. "What about the penthouse in Tribeca? The rent is due tomorrow. Fifty thousand dollars."
Evan swallowed hard, a cold knot forming in his gut. "The lease... the lease is under the company name."
From the doorway of the boutique, two private process servers wearing dark suits stepped forward. One of them held out a thick manila envelope directly toward Evan.
"Evan Whitmore?"
"Who the hell are you?"
May you like
"You've been served," the man stated calmly. "Notice of immediate surrender of corporate-owned residential real estate. You have twenty-four hours to vacate the Tribeca penthouse."
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