“You didn’t secure assets!” Richard roared, his voice cracking with panic, pointing a shaking finger at the ledger. “You secured a federal indictment! You arrogant, stupid woman! Look at these disclosures!”
Carla’s smug expression faltered. She slowly put the glass down. “What disclosures?”
“The revenue reports you showed me were completely fabricated!” Richard yelled, grabbing the file and shoving it across the table toward her. “Joel’s firm is a hollow shell! He has three active, massive liens filed against the primary operating accounts by a third-party bonding agency. He didn’t just mismanage funds, Carla—he embezzled from his clients’ escrow accounts! The firm is over three million dollars in the red!”
“That’s impossible!” Carla shrieked, her voice pitching into a hysterical wail. She scrambled forward, grabbing the ledger, her eyes frantically scanning the pages, unable to comprehend the astronomical negative balances.
“It gets worse!” Richard continued, hyperventilating, realizing his own firm might be dragged into a malpractice investigation for facilitating this transfer. “The two-million-dollar house you just assumed? It has three hidden, high-interest mortgages filed against it by a shadow-market private lender. It is in active, pre-foreclosure status as of Tuesday. And the IRS… my god, Carla, there is an active, pending flag from the IRS Criminal Investigation Division for massive tax evasion!”
Carla’s hands began to shake so violently she dropped the ledger. Her sparkling water glass was knocked off the table, shattering loudly against the floor, sending glass and water everywhere.
“No! No, no, no!” Carla screamed, clutching her chest, a horrific, choking sound of absolute panic escaping her throat as the reality of her complete financial annihilation set in. “This is a mistake! Cancel the contract, Richard! Call her back! Tear it up!”
She lunged across the table, desperately grabbing for the ‘Assumption of Estate’ contract she had triumphantly signed just ten minutes prior.
Richard stepped back, snatching his briefcase off the table, his eyes filled with a mixture of profound pity and absolute, self-preserving terror.