Chapter 7 – The Truth Starts Falling Apart
The envelope lay on the marble floor.
No one reached for it.
Landen stared at it as if refusing to pick it up would somehow make it disappear.
Michael Reeves waited patiently.
"Mr. Bradley," he said, "I need to confirm that you've received the notice."
Landen finally bent down with shaky hands and picked up the envelope.
"This has to be a mistake."
"I'm afraid it isn't."
He tore it open.
His eyes scanned the first page.
Then the second.
With every line he read, the color drained from his face.
Howard stepped closer.
"What does it say?"
Landen didn't answer.
Michael spoke instead.
"First Dominion Commercial Bank has temporarily suspended access to the emergency financing approved yesterday."
Howard frowned.
"But the money was already transferred."
"Yes."
"The funds remain secured."
"What does that mean?"
"It means the money cannot be freely accessed until the bank completes its investigation."
Landen looked up in disbelief.
"You froze the money?"
Michael nodded.
"The account has been placed under a protective restriction."
Naomi folded her arms.
"So after everything that happened... you can't even use the money?"
"No," Michael answered.
"Not without satisfying the bank's compliance requirements."
Landen turned to me.
"You knew."
"I knew there would be safeguards."
"You tricked me."
I shook my head.
"No."
"I trusted you."
"You trusted that I wouldn't read the documents."
His shoulders slumped.
That was exactly what he had assumed.
For thirteen years, he had relied on me to handle every contract, every mortgage paper, every insurance policy, every loan agreement.
He signed wherever I placed the tabs.
Not because I deceived him.
Because he never believed the details mattered.
Today, they mattered more than anything.
Michael removed another folder from his briefcase.
"There's one additional matter."
Landen closed his eyes.
"What now?"
"The bank's auditors have requested interviews with certain company employees."
Howard looked confused.
"For what purpose?"
"To verify the legitimacy of vendor relationships and operating expenses."
Cynthia nodded.
"That's standard."
Michael continued.
"They've also requested access to the company's internal email server."
Landen's head snapped up.
"No."
Michael looked at him.
"I'm sorry?"
"No."
His voice was firmer this time.
"They don't need my emails."
Michael remained calm.
"Under the terms of the financing agreement you signed yesterday, they do."
Landen's breathing became uneven.
"I never agreed to that."
Cynthia quietly slid a copy of the agreement across the counter.
"You did."
He looked at the highlighted paragraph.
Then at me.
"You knew that clause was there."
"I did."
"You never pointed it out."
"You never asked me to."
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Naomi broke the silence.
"Landen."
He didn't look at her.
"Is there something in those emails I should know about?"
"No."
She took a step closer.
"Look at me."
Slowly, he raised his head.
"Were you seeing anyone else besides me?"
The question landed like a hammer.
Even Laurel gasped.
Landen blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me."
Naomi's voice remained steady.
"You lied to your wife."
"You lied to your investors."
"You lied to the bank."
"So answer me."
"Was I the only one?"
He hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Naomi let out a slow, painful breath.
"Oh, my God."
She laughed once—a short, bitter sound.
"I actually believed I was special."
"No, Naomi—"
"Don't."
Tears filled her eyes.
"You made me believe we were building a future."
She looked around the kitchen.
"I walked into another woman's home wearing her robe because I believed every word you said."
Her voice cracked.
"I've never been so ashamed of myself."
For the first time all morning, I saw genuine remorse in her face.
Not because she had been caught.
Because she finally understood what she had helped destroy.
She looked at me.
"Elisa..."
I didn't respond.
There was nothing either of us could say.
She quietly picked up her purse.
"I'm leaving."
Landen reached for her arm.
"Please."
She stepped away.
"No."
"You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly."
She wiped away a tear.
"You don't love anyone."
The front door closed softly behind her.
The house felt strangely quieter.
Landen stood frozen, staring at the empty doorway.
He had lost the woman he left his family for.
And the day wasn't over.
Cedric suddenly ran into the kitchen carrying a drawing.
"Mama!"
His cheerful voice broke the tension.
"I finished it!"
I knelt beside him.
"What did you draw?"
He handed me the paper.
It was a picture of our family.
Me.
Him.
Landen.
Three smiling stick figures holding hands in front of a brick house.
Above us, he had written in large, uneven letters:
HOME.
My throat tightened.
He pointed proudly.
"That's us."
Then he looked at his father.
"Daddy..."
Landen forced a smile.
"Yeah, buddy?"
Cedric tilted his head.
"Are you still my best friend?"
The question shattered whatever composure Landen had left.
His eyes filled with tears.
He opened his mouth.
But before he could answer, Michael's phone rang.
He listened for less than thirty seconds.
Then he slowly lowered it.
His expression had completely changed.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," he said quietly.
"But this situation has just become much more serious."
Every eye turned toward him.
"What happened?" Cynthia asked.
Michael looked directly at Landen.
"The bank has just been informed that the Internal Revenue Service has opened an inquiry into Bradley Commerce Creative."
Landen staggered backward until he hit the kitchen counter.
Then Michael delivered the sentence that made the room go completely silent.
"And according to the information we just received..."
He paused.
May you like
"...the request for that inquiry didn't come from the bank."
"It came from someone inside your own company."
