Chapter 3
Thursday morning.
Hannah woke up to the sound of her phone blowing up.
Brandon’s divorce petition had been filed overnight.
She read through it while drinking coffee on her penthouse balcony.
The claims were absurd.
*“The petitioner, Brandon Cole, has been the sole financial provider during the marriage.”*
*“The respondent, Hannah Parker, suffers from severe emotional instability and has abandoned the marital home without cause.”*
*“The respondent has physically and emotionally abused the petitioner’s elderly mother, Mrs. Evelyn Cole.”*
*“Requested relief: 100% of all marital assets, spousal support in the amount of $4,500 per month indefinitely, and a restraining order preventing the respondent from contacting the petitioner or his mother.”*
Hannah laughed out loud.
A real, genuine laugh.
He had actually written that she was the sole abuser.
She forwarded the petition to her attorney, Clara Bennett—Michael’s sister, one of the toughest family law attorneys in Illinois.
Clara called back within thirty seconds.
“Are you seeing this?” Hannah asked.
“I’m seeing it,” Clara said, her voice ice cold. “And I’m going to eviscerate him. Hannah, we can destroy him with the audit alone. The embezzlement is a felony. He’s looking at prison time, not spousal support.”
“Not yet,” Hannah said.
“What do you mean ‘not yet’?”
“I want him to think he’s winning. I want him to get cocky. I want him to say all of this in court, under oath, in front of a judge. Then, and only then, do we drop the hammer.”
Clara sighed.
“You’re evil. I love it. What’s the plan?”
“Today, he’s going to leak the divorce to his friends at Summit. He’s going to tell everyone his crazy baker wife is trying to ruin him. He’ll play the victim. By tomorrow morning, the whole company will be on his side.”
“And then?”
“Then I walk into the all-hands meeting and introduce myself as the founder and majority owner. Then I fire him in front of everyone. Then we hand the audit evidence to the FBI.”
Clara was quiet.
“You know once you do that, there’s no going back. Your identity will be public. Everyone will know who you are. The bakery, the penthouse, everything.”
Hannah looked out at the city.
“I know.”
“Are you ready for that? You spent three years hiding. You wanted to be normal.”
“Normal was a lie,” Hannah said. “And it almost killed me. Literally. If I had stayed in that marriage one more year, I would have let them break me completely. No more hiding, Clara. No more being small to make other people feel comfortable.”
“Okay,” Clara said. “Then we do it your way. But I’m filing our response tomorrow night, right after the meeting. It’s going to be brutal. Every lie he told, I’m going to prove wrong with receipts. Medical records, bank statements, audit reports, hotel receipts, the 911 call he made to the police yesterday—all of it.”
“Perfect.”
Hannah hung up.
She called Jake, her driver.
“Jake? I need you to do me a favor. Drive by the Highland Park house. Don’t stop. Just tell me what you see.”
Ten minutes later, Jake called back.
“Moving truck out front, Ms. Parker. They’re loading boxes. Furniture, art, the big screen TV. Everything that isn’t nailed down.”
Hannah closed her eyes.
Of course.
Brandon was already looting the house.
He thought he had already won.
“Thank you, Jake. Now drive to Summit headquarters. Park across the street. Wait for me there at eight tomorrow morning.”
“Understood.”
She got up and hobbled to her closet.
It was time to stop dressing like a baker and start dressing like the woman who built a five-hundred-million-dollar company.
She pulled out a tailored navy blue pantsuit. Manolo Blahnik heels—though she’d have to wear one heel and one medical boot. Diamond studs. A simple gold watch that had been her father’s.
She looked in the mirror.
The woman staring back was not the timid, exhausted wife Brandon had married.
This was Hannah Parker—the girl who had started Summit in her garage at twenty-two with a five-thousand-dollar loan and a dream.
This was the woman who had out-negotiated billionaires and built an empire.
And she was just getting started.
At Summit Home Appliances headquarters in Oak Brook, Brandon was sitting in his big corner office, feet up on his desk, smiling at his phone.
The divorce was the talk of the company.
His assistant had already told everyone in the office.
“Poor Brandon,” the secretaries whispered in the break room. “His wife is crazy. She broke her own leg just to get attention. And she beats his mother! Can you believe it?”
“After everything he does for her,” a sales manager agreed. “He’s such a good guy. Always buying her flowers, taking her on trips. And this is how she repays him.”
Brandon loved it.
He was the victim. The hero. The poor, misunderstood husband trapped with a lunatic.
His phone rang. It was Michael Bennett, the CEO.
Brandon sat up straight, smoothing his tie.
“Michael! Great to hear from you. How’s the family?”
“Brandon,” Michael said, his voice flat. “I need you in the regional conference room tomorrow at nine a.m. All hands. Every department head from Chicago, Milwaukee, and Indianapolis will be there. Important announcement.”
Brandon’s chest puffed out.
Finally.
The promotion he deserved.
He had been gunning for the COO position for months. This must be it.
“Of course, Michael. I’ll be there. Should I prepare anything? My Q3 numbers? The expansion plan?”
“Just be there,” Michael said.
He hung up.
Brandon pumped his fist in the air.
“Yes!”
This was perfect.
He would get promoted. His salary would jump to four hundred thousand a year plus bonuses. He would be untouchable. By the time Hannah realized what was happening, he would be running half the company.
He called his mother.
“Mom? Pack your bags. We’re celebrating tonight. I’m getting promoted. Big time.”
Evelyn squealed.
“I knew it! My boy is a genius! That’s why you don’t need that useless wife. You’re going places! When do we move into the big executive house in Hinsdale?”
“Soon, Mom. Very soon. And Hannah? She can rot in her little bakery for all I care. She’ll be begging me to take her back by the end of the month.”
He hung up and leaned back in his chair, staring at the Summit logo on the wall.
He had no idea the logo was Hannah’s design.
He had no idea the chair he was sitting in had been approved by her in the 2019 office renovation budget.
He had no idea that every single person reporting to him had been hired with her blessing.
And tomorrow, he would learn all of it.
That night, Hannah sat in her penthouse, going over the audit file one last time.
Seven hundred and eighty thousand dollars stolen.
Fake vendors.
Fake employees.
Fake client dinners that were actually dates with prostitutes and his long string of mistresses.
She printed out the most damning pages.
She put them in a leather folder with the Summit logo embossed in gold.
Then she took the divorce petition Brandon had filed.
She highlighted the most outrageous lies in yellow marker.
She put that in the folder too.
Finally, she pulled out her original stock certificate—Number 1, dated March 14, 2012, representing sixty-two percent of Summit Home Appliances Inc., registered to Hannah Marie Parker.
She placed it on top.
She closed the folder.
May you like
Tomorrow was judgment day.
And Brandon Cole was not ready.
