Bankrupting My Husband’s Fake Perfect Family Chapter 04

Bankrupting My Husband’s Fake Perfect Family Chapter 04: Draining the Accounts

“Sign here, Clara. And here. Initial the bottom corner.”

Sebastian slid a thick stack of manila folders across the glass conference table. The Monday morning sunlight caught the sharp angles of his jaw.

I picked up the Montblanc pen he offered. “What exactly does this authorization do?”

“It triggers a hard freeze on all domestic assets tied to Julian’s social security number,” Sebastian said. “It gives me power of attorney over the brokerage accounts you opened jointly.”

“Will the bank notify him immediately?” I asked.

“Not for forty-eight hours. By then, the money will be legally restructured.”

I signed my name on the dotted line. The ink bled into the heavy paper.

“What about his personal savings?” I asked.

“Already handled,” Sebastian replied. “My paralegal filed an emergency injunction at dawn. The judge signed off on it twenty minutes ago.”

“He really left all this on a home server?” Sebastian asked, tapping the printed offshore ledgers resting near my elbow.

“He thinks I’m stupid,” I said. “He thinks because I gave up my auditing career to raise Liam and Mia, I forgot how to read a balance sheet.”

“Arrogance is a predictable flaw.”

“He transferred fifty thousand to the Cayman account just last Tuesday,” I pointed out.

“We’ll flag it as marital waste,” Sebastian said. “The judge will force him to repay it during the divorce settlement.”

“He won’t have the money to repay it.”

“That’s his problem, not yours.”

Sebastian leaned over my shoulder to flip the page. His tailored suit brushed against my bare arm.

“We lock the primary checking first,” he instructed, tapping a manicured fingernail against the top sheet. “Then we sever his access to the mutual funds.”

“He’ll notice the mutual funds are gone,” I said. “He checks his portfolio every Monday at noon.”

“Let him check,” Sebastian replied smoothly. “He won’t be able to log in. My team already changed the security protocols.”

“He’ll call his broker.”

“His broker works for the firm we just served with a subpoena. They won’t take his calls.”

Sebastian didn’t pull away. He stayed close, his gaze dropping to my neck.

“You wear lily of the valley,” he murmured. “Cold. Sharp. It suits you.”

I kept my eyes on the laptop screen. “Let’s focus on the offshore accounts, Sebastian.”

“Of course,” he said, turning his attention to the monitor.

He reached past me to tap the keyboard. “Julian has three platinum credit cards. He routes the balances through a dummy corporation in Delaware.”

“I saw those statements,” I said. “He pays them off on the fifteenth of every month.”

“Today is the twelfth,” Sebastian pointed out. “If we drain the joint checking now, those automated payments bounce. His credit score tanks by Friday.”

“And the Porsche dealership?” I asked.

“The down payment cleared,” Sebastian confirmed. “But the financing for the rest of the car relies on his current credit standing. Once the bank flags his bounced payments, they’ll recall the loan.”

“They’ll repossess the car,” I realized.

“Exactly. Right out of his driveway.”

“Good.”

I opened a new browser tab. The banking portal loaded instantly.

I typed in my credentials. The screen refreshed.

*Available Balance: $1,450,200.00.*

My stomach tightened. That number represented fifteen years of my life. My sacrifices. My late nights raising his children while he played house with another woman.

“Where is it going?” Sebastian asked.

“A shell charity foundation,” I answered. “Registered under my maiden name last year for tax purposes. Julian doesn’t know it exists.”

“Are you the sole director?”

“Yes. My signature is the only one on the charter.”

“Perfect. Route the entire sum.”

I typed the routing number. I entered the account details.

I moved the cursor to the transfer amount box. I typed the number one, followed by a four, a five, and four zeros.

My fingers cramped. I gripped the wireless mouse so hard my knuckles turned translucent.

I stared at the blinking cursor. If I clicked confirm, there was no going back. The war officially started.

“He used this money to buy a house for his whore,” I whispered.

“And to fund your kids’ weekend getaway,” Sebastian added ruthlessly.

He knew exactly what to say to kill my hesitation.

“Clara,” Sebastian said. His voice was a low, steady rumble.

He stepped closer. His large, warm palm covered my freezing hand.

The contact shocked my system. Julian’s touch always felt practiced, demanding. Sebastian’s touch offered absolute, unyielding support.

“He stole your future,” Sebastian whispered right next to my ear. “Take his.”

Sebastian’s fingers curled over mine. He applied a gentle, downward pressure.

Together, we pressed the left mouse button.

*Click.*

A loading wheel spun in the center of the screen.

*Transfer Successful. Current Balance: $0.00.*

The tension coiled in my spine unraveled in a single, violent rush. I let out a long exhale.

“It’s gone,” I said.

“Every last cent,” Sebastian agreed. He pulled his hand back, though his eyes never left my face.

“Will they trace it to the charity?” I asked.

“Eventually,” Sebastian said. “But by the time Julian’s lawyers untangle the corporate veil, he’ll be facing federal embezzlement charges. He won’t have the capital to fight you in civil court.”

“Apex Logistics won’t let him walk away quietly,” I noted.

“They are already drafting a termination letter,” Sebastian said. “The board received your email. They froze his company assets an hour ago.”

“So he has nothing.”

“Nothing but the clothes on his back.”

My cell phone buzzed on the glass table.

A text message illuminated the screen. A six-digit verification code from the bank.

Before the screen could go dark, a video call overrode the notification.

Julian’s contact photo flashed bright.

“Answer it,” Sebastian commanded.

I swiped the green icon. Julian’s face filled the screen.

He sat in his office chair, wearing a crisp blue dress shirt.

A high-pitched, feminine giggle echoed clearly through his microphone. Chloe.

“Stop it, Julian,” a woman’s voice teased in the background.

Julian smirked off-camera, then looked back at the lens. He frowned at the camera.

“Wife, why is my card declining?”