Marjorie’s mouth snapped shut, and her face went pale.
They had recklessly used my company’s financial accounts to pay for private leisure trips and personal dining, accumulating an audited loss exceeding six hundred thousand dollars that could easily trigger
criminal fraud charges.
Derek took a slow step toward me, adopting a soft tone. “Maya, please think about our son,” he pleaded gently.
“I thought about our son every single time I endured your cruel humiliations,” I countered firmly. “You, on the other hand, only thought about yourself when you let him cry in a hot room so you could keep playing games.”
“I promise I can change if you give me one more chance!” he cried out.
“You only want to change because you finally realized that the owner
of the wealthy lifestyle you bragged about was me all along,” I said plainly.
Lena laid out three clear legal options on the table: surrender all company property and acknowledge the debt in writing, face a full corporate audit and lawsuit in open court, or continue making aggressive threats and face immediate harassment charges.
Derek refused to sign the paperwork that day, as his fragile ego still needed to be broken a bit further.
Desperate to regain control, Marjorie decided to turn our private residential street into a dramatic public
circus. She sat right on the concrete curb outside my security gate, wailing loudly and screaming that I was trying to starve a helpless elderly woman to death. Neighbors began stepping out onto their balconies to watch the drama unfold as she beat her chest, crying that she had welcomed me into her family like her own daughter.
Instead of shouting back, I simply activated the high-powered external speakers mounted near the gate.
