Chapter 2
Security escorted Brandon and Evelyn out of the ER.
They screamed the whole way.
“You ungrateful witch!” Evelyn shrieked. “After everything we did for you!”
Brandon was already on his phone, yelling at his lawyer.
Hannah closed her eyes.
The morphine was kicking in, but her mind was racing.
She thought about the day she met Brandon.
It was at a charity gala four years ago. She had just stepped down as CEO of Summit, handing the reins to Michael so she could pursue her real passion: baking. She wanted to be normal for once. No board meetings, no shareholder calls, no one treating her differently because of her net worth.
She wore a simple black dress. No jewelry. No designer bag.
Brandon had walked up to her, handsome and charming, and bought her a glass of wine.
“What do you do?” he asked.
“I bake,” she said.
He smiled.
“Nice. Simple. I like women who don’t make life complicated.”
That should have been her first warning.
But she was tired of men who only wanted her for her money. Brandon seemed different. He saw her as just Hannah—the baker.
Three months later, they were married.
She moved into his small apartment. Then, using her money through anonymous channels, she helped him get the job at Summit. She arranged for his promotions. She paid for the Highland Park house through a shell company, putting it in both their names to make him feel successful. She bought the SUV. She funded their lifestyle.
All while he told everyone he was a self-made man.
All while his mother called her useless.
“Ms. Parker?”
The nurse’s voice pulled her back.
“Your ride is here.”
Hannah had called for a private car—not an Uber. She was done pretending.
They wheeled her out to a black SUV with tinted windows. The driver, a former Marine named Jake that her security team had assigned years ago, opened the door.
“Where to, Ms. Parker?”
“Not Highland Park,” she said. “Take me to the penthouse.”
Jake nodded. He knew exactly which one.
The penthouse was on the sixty-eighth floor of the Trump Tower downtown. Hannah had bought it before the marriage. She had never told Brandon about it. To him, it was just a building he sometimes pointed at while driving, saying, “Someday, I’ll have a place like that.”
She rode the elevator up alone.
The door opened to floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Chicago skyline. The furniture was covered in white sheets. She hadn’t been here in three years.
She hobbled inside on her crutches, wincing at the pain in her leg.
She tore the sheets off the couch and sat down.
Her phone rang.
It was Michael.
“Hannah, the audit team is in Brandon’s office now,” he said. “They’re going through everything—expense reports, vendor contracts, hiring records. You need to see what we’ve already found.”
“Tell me.”
“For the last two years, he’s been running a fake vendor scheme. He approves invoices to a company called ‘Midwest Logistics Solutions’ that doesn’t exist. The money goes to a bank account in his mother’s name.”
Hannah closed her eyes.
“How much?”
“Just over seven hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“Anything else?”
“He hired his cousin, his nephew, and three of his high school friends into senior positions—none of them qualified. He’s been paying them bonuses out of the training budget. And… there’s something else.”
“Spit it out, Michael.”
“His expense reports. Multiple charges at the Grand Hyatt for ‘client dinners.’ Cross-referenced with his calendar—there were no clients those nights. We pulled the hotel records. He was with a woman. A different one almost every month.”
Hannah felt nothing.
No sadness. No anger.
Just… empty.
She had suspected for a long time. The late nights. The sudden work trips. The cologne that wasn’t hers on his shirts. She had ignored it all, hoping that if she was just a better wife, he would change.
“Send everything to my attorney,” she said. “And Michael?”
“Yes?”
“Schedule the all-hands meeting for Friday morning. Regional conference room. I want every manager in the Chicago area there.”
“You’re going to tell them?”
“I’m going to take back my company.”
She hung up.
Across town, in the Highland Park house, Brandon was pacing the living room.
Evelyn was sitting at the kitchen table, shoveling cold cereal into her mouth.
“I still can’t believe she called security on me,” she mumbled. “In public! Everyone saw!”
“Shut up, Mom,” Brandon snapped. “I have bigger problems.”
He was on the phone with his lawyer, Richard.
“Richard, I want the divorce papers filed today. Full stop. She gets nothing. The house, the cars, the savings—all mine. And I want spousal support. She makes good money with that bakery. She can pay me three thousand a month.”
Richard was quiet for a second.
“Brandon… are you sure about this? She was hit by a motorcycle. A jury might not like that you kicked her while she was down.”
“Let them hate her,” Brandon said. “I’ll paint her as the unstable one. She’s been depressed for years. She’s crazy. That’s why she’s in the hospital—she probably walked into traffic on purpose for attention.”
Evelyn nodded vigorously, mouth full of cereal.
“Tell them she hits me!” she yelled. “Tell her she abuses an old lady!”
Brandon grinned.
“Perfect. Add that. Elder abuse. She won’t dare fight back. She’ll settle just to keep it quiet. And Richard? Make sure the papers mention Summit. Remind her that I’m a powerful man with connections. She’s just a baker. She doesn’t have the money to fight me in court for years.”
He hung up.
He walked to the window and looked out at his big house, his nice neighborhood, his perfect life.
“Let her try,” he whispered to himself. “She has no idea who she’s messing with.”
He had no idea the audit team was already packing boxes of evidence against him.
He had no idea the woman he was about to destroy in court was the same woman who had built everything he had.
And he definitely had no idea that on Friday morning, his entire world was going to come crashing down in front of everyone he knew.
Hannah lay on the couch in her penthouse, staring at the lights of the city.
Her leg throbbed.
Her heart ached.
But for the first time in three years, she felt alive.
She picked up her phone and called her bakery manager, Sarah.
“Sarah? It’s Hannah. I need you to do something for me. Starting tomorrow, we’re rolling out the summer menu early. And double the staff. We’re going to need it.”
“Ms. Parker? Are you okay? You sound different.”
“I’m better than okay, Sarah. I’m finally free.”
She hung up and closed her eyes.
May you like
The battle was just beginning.
And Brandon Cole had already lost.
