I sat in Dean Bradley's wood-paneled private office. The air smelled of expensive espresso and success. I held a Montblanc pen, signing my name across the bottom line of my official two-million-dollar federal research contract. Dr. Fletcher stood behind me, beaming like a proud father.
Meanwhile, three blocks away, Thomas and Victoria huddled in the corner booth of a cheap, fluorescent-lit coffee shop, seeking refuge from the persistent rain. Their phones were buzzing relentlessly on the sticky laminate tabletop. Haley had forgotten to end her live stream when she dropped her phone. The entire internet had witnessed Thomas's screaming, humiliating meltdown. Haley's inbox was flooded with notifications—not from fans, but from her major sponsors, dropping their lifestyle brand by the minute because of the viral embarrassment.
Before Thomas could even begin to process his daughter's catastrophic loss of income, a tall, imposing man in a tailored gray suit approached his table. He didn't introduce himself warmly. He simply placed a thick, legally binding document directly onto Thomas's refreshing cup of coffee.
“Sir. Hensley?” The man asked, his tone clipped and professional. “I’m Arthur Vance. I represent Dr. Clara Hensley. This document serves as an immediate court order to freeze all of her personal and business bank accounts.”*
$
Thomas stared at the paper, his mouth agape and snapping shut like a suffocating fish. “What? Why?!”
“Based on a civil lawsuit challenging your documented and illegal attempt to fraudulently transfer and liquidate your late mother’s estate,” Mr. Vance replied softly, buttoning his jacket. “My client has also filed a restraining order. If you set foot near her property or her lab, you will be jailed. We’ll see you in federal court.”
read more in next page
