Janice opened the folder and laid out the evidence one item at a time—the transfers to the shell company, the forensic reports confirming the forgery, the illegal changes to the policies.
“The house in the gated community,” Janice announced clearly, “was largely paid for with money from my client’s own book sales—the books you kept dismissing as nothing but little novels.”
Lucas’s jaw shook as he tried to speak, but nothing coherent came out.
“All those numbers can be easily explained. This is all a huge misunderstanding,” he stammered, looking to his partners for a support that never came.
“Wonderful,” Janice replied with a predatory smile. “Then you can explain every last cent of it before a judge in open court.”
What came next was a slow, public, thoroughly humiliating collapse of the life Lucas had built on lies.