Chapter 5 - The Frozen Accounts
Forty-eight hours after the incident at the Hawthorne Hotel, the financial dominoes began to fall at breathtaking speed.
I was resting in my apartment, my head wrapped in clean white bandages, when my primary financial advisor called.
“Chloe,” he said, his tone solemn. “The court has issued an emergency asset freeze on all joint family trusts associated with Caldwell Construction. Because your name was listed as an officer on several shell accounts without your consent, we’ve filed formal affidavits to clear your personal accounts.”
“Are my personal funds safe?” I asked.
“Your personal accounts are 100% clean and isolated,” he confirmed. “Your savings, your investment portfolio, and the title to your BMW X5 are completely clear. But your father’s personal accounts, Madison’s trust fund, and your mother’s credit cards have all been locked by federal marshals.”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.
Madison’s trust fund was her entire livelihood. She had never held a real job for more than three months, living off a monthly stipend generated by my father’s business activities.
My phone rang two minutes later. It was Madison.
I answered and put it on speakerphone. “Hello, Madison.”
“You psycho!” she shrieked into the phone, her voice raspy from crying. “My credit card just got declined at the grocery store! My landlord called and said my rent check bounced! What did you do?!”
“Dad took money that didn't belong to him, Madison,” I said patiently. “The government froze the accounts because they were funded by illegal proceeds.”
“I don't care about his business!” she screamed. “I need my money! I have car payments! I have lease payments! You have to fix this!”
“I didn't break it, Madison. Dad did.”
“You snitched!” she wailed. “You could have just given him the car keys, signed the paper, and none of this would have happened! You ruined our lives because you were too selfish to share!”
The sheer absurdity of her words made me shake my head. She genuinely believed that being assaulted with a silver stand and having my identity stolen were minor inconveniences compared to her card being declined.
“I paid for my car, Madison,” I said. “Just like you’re going to have to pay for your own life now. Don't call me again.”
I hung up the phone and blocked her number.
May you like
Five minutes later, my front door buzzed. I looked at the security camera monitor mounted beside my hallway.
Standing in the lobby downstairs was Harrison Sterling, my father’s chief business partner.
