He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 06

He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 06: The Secondary Cuts

“Are you absolutely certain about this, Seraphina?” David Roth asked.

“Sever the lines, David,” I instructed.

I tossed the stack of plastic onto his polished mahogany desk. The five cards landed with a sharp clatter.

David stared at the pile. Three platinum rewards cards. Two black auto-pay cards linked to his Aston Martin and his Range Rover.

“He will default on the car loans within thirty days,” David warned. He picked up the top card, turning it over to inspect the signature.

“Let the bank repossess them. They are not in my name.”

“You co-signed the Range Rover.”

“Remove my name as guarantor. Pay whatever penalty the dealership demands out of the discretionary fund. Just detach me from his debt.”

David opened his top desk drawer. He pulled out a pair of heavy steel shears.

He positioned the first platinum card between the blades.

“The platinum accounts are tied to your primary routing number,” David noted. “If I sever these, he loses access to the airport lounges, the concierge service, and the emergency travel funds.”

“He does not need emergency travel funds to visit his mistress.”

David didn’t blink. He just squeezed the handles.

*Snap.*

The sound echoed off the glass walls of the office. Two halves of Julian’s limitless spending power fluttered onto the blotter.

My shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. I leaned back into the leather guest chair. A long, stale breath emptied from my lungs. The tightness in my chest eased, making room for a cold, calculated calm.

“Next,” I ordered.

David picked up the second card.

“This one covers his recurring lifestyle expenses,” David explained, reading the embossed numbers. “The Oakmont Country Club dues. The private chef. The tailored suit subscription.”

“Cancel them all.”

“Oakmont requires a ninety-day notice for membership termination.”

“Then inform the club treasurer that Julian Voss will assume personal responsibility for the remaining balance. Vanguard will no longer subsidize his golf habits.”

David squeezed the shears.

*Snap.*

“The chef?” David asked.

“Sever the contract. Pay out the severance clause. Julian can learn to cook his own meals.”

David grabbed the third platinum card. *Snap.*

“And the auto-pay cards?” David asked, moving down to the final two pieces of black plastic.

“Terminate the direct debits immediately.”

“The insurance premiums will bounce by noon. His coverage will lapse.”

“Then he shouldn’t drive.”

I watched the pieces pile up. My burned left hand rested in my lap, wrapped in fresh white gauze. The dull throb of the blistered skin grounded me. It served as a physical reminder of his lies.

*Snap. Snap.*

The final card split down the middle. The magnetic strip fractured into useless black shards.

“It is done,” David stated. He swept the plastic ruins into his palm and dumped them into the wastebasket. “Financially speaking, Julian Voss no longer exists in your portfolio.”

“What about the joint checking?”

“Frozen as of last night, per your directive to Arthur. The funds are locked in escrow pending legal mediation.”

“Good. Lock out his access to the digital vault as well.”

“I need a security override for that. He is still listed as your emergency proxy.”

“Use my equity code. Revoke the proxy status.”

David typed rapidly on his keyboard. “Proxy revoked. He cannot view your offshore holdings or the Vanguard trust.”

“Check the supplementary lines of credit. Did he open any shadow accounts?”

David’s fingers flew across the keyboard. He squinted at his monitor.

“He attempted to open a high-yield savings account last week under a shell corporation,” David revealed. “Reyes Interiors.”

“Chloe’s LLC.”

“Yes. He tried to seed it with fifty thousand dollars from your wedding reserve.”

“Did the transfer clear?”

“No. The fraud department flagged it because the LLC was registered less than a month ago. The funds bounced back to the reserve.”

A short, dry laugh escaped my throat. It sounded hollow in the quiet room.

David raised an eyebrow. “Is something funny?”

“He told me his card was declined at Cartier yesterday. He blamed a system glitch.”

“There are no glitches in Vanguard’s mainframe.”

“I know. He bought a Patek Philippe watch with my money last month. Yesterday, he gave it to Chloe Reyes.”

David folded his hands on the desk. “Do you want me to flag the watch as stolen property?”

“Not yet. Let him think he got away with it. I want him comfortable.”

“He won’t be comfortable when he tries to buy lunch today.”

“That is the point.” I adjusted my blazer. “What about the wire transfers to his parents?”

David clicked his mouse, navigating to a new tab. “The monthly stipend to Richard and Eleanor Voss. Ten thousand dollars, scheduled to transfer on the first of every month.”

“Cancel it.”

“They use that stipend to pay the mortgage on their Florida estate,” David cautioned. “If I stop the transfer, they will default.”

“Julian can pay his parents’ mortgage.”

“With what?”

“That is his problem, not mine.” I leaned forward, resting my uninjured hand on the edge of the desk. “He used my money to fund his affair. He used my influence to elevate his status. I am cutting off the oxygen to his entire family tree.”

David nodded. He highlighted the recurring transaction on his screen and hit delete. “Stipend canceled.”

“Did he charge anything else before the freeze took effect last night?”

“A few minor transactions. A two-hundred-dollar dinner at Le Bernardin. A fifty-dollar Uber ride to Brooklyn.”

“Chloe lives in Brooklyn.”

“It appears so.” David scrolled further down the ledger. “Wait. There is a pending charge from early yesterday morning. It bypassed the initial freeze because it was processed manually.”

“Show me.”

David spun his monitor toward me.

The line item displayed a charge for eight thousand dollars at a boutique travel agency.

“Two first-class tickets to Paris,” David read aloud. “Departing next Friday.”

“The day after our wedding was supposed to take place.”

“He booked a honeymoon.”

“For him and Chloe.” A muscle ticked beside my eye. The starched collar of my silk blouse suddenly felt too tight against my throat. “Cancel the tickets.”

“The agency policy states these tickets are non-refundable.”

“I do not care about the eight thousand dollars, David. I care about him sitting in a first-class seat paid for by my sweat. Cancel the reservation. Turn the tickets to ash.”

“Done.” David tapped a few keys. “The reservation is voided.”

“Did you draft the eviction notice for the downtown loft?”

“My legal team finalized it this morning. But you realize his name is on the lease, correct?”

“I own the building, David. The lease requires the tenant to maintain a minimum liquid asset balance. Without my accounts backing him, he violates the terms.”

“I will have the building manager serve him the papers by five o’clock.”

“Make it three o’clock. I want him out before the weekend.”

“Understood.” David checked his watch. “There is one more matter. The charity gala on Saturday. He is listed as your co-chair. His paddle number is linked to your philanthropic fund.”

“Deactivate his paddle. If he tries to bid on anything, let him pay cash.”

“He doesn’t have any cash.”

“Exactly.”

The shrill ring of the desk phone shattered the silence.

David glanced at the caller ID display. His expression hardened.

“Speak of the devil,” David muttered.

“Answer it.”

“He usually bypasses my desk and calls my assistant. He must be locked out of the automated phone banking.”

“He is desperate. Put him on speaker.”

David reached out and pressed the glowing green button on the console.

“David Roth speaking.”

“What the hell did you do to my accounts?!” Julian’s voice exploded through the speaker, distorted by sheer volume.