Chapter 3 - The Secret Office
I drove straight to Arthur's incredibly expensive downtown accounting firm before anyone else in the entire, massive city was even fully awake.
I still had the master security keycard he had violently forced me to use when I worked as his unpaid, completely unappreciated intern during my college years.
The heavy, pristine glass doors of the massive corporate building slid open effortlessly, completely welcoming me into the quiet, entirely deserted lobby.
I rode the private, high-speed elevator directly up to the executive floor, my heart aggressively pounding a frantic, terrifying rhythm against my ribs.
I quickly swiped my faded keycard at the grand entrance of his corner office, tightly holding my breath as the electronic lock beeped a welcoming green.
Arthur was an incredibly arrogant, deeply flawed man who genuinely believed his complicated, highly encrypted passwords were completely uncrackable by anyone.
But he was also a pathetic creature of predictable, lazy habits, exclusively using Margaret's exact birth year combined with his absolute favorite golf course.
I rapidly booted up his primary desktop computer and aggressively typed the familiar password in, instantly gaining full, unrestricted access to his hidden offshore accounts.
My eyes widened in pure, unadulterated shock as I frantically scrolled through the endless, highly illegal financial ledgers he had secretly maintained for decades.
He had been aggressively, ruthlessly embezzling millions of dollars from his wealthiest, most incredibly powerful corporate clients for over ten full years.
The massive amount of stolen money was being quietly funneled directly into dummy corporations that were officially, legally registered in Jason's name.
That was the real, incredibly sickening reason they had so desperately transferred the beautiful family house directly to my younger, arrogant brother.
The massive house was actively being used as a fraudulent, highly illegal collateral asset to completely cover up Arthur's massive, impending federal bankruptcy.
They hadn't just cruelly stolen my childhood home from me; they were actively using it to commit massive, incredibly serious federal financial crimes.
I quickly plugged a high-capacity, encrypted flash drive directly into the computer and began desperately downloading every single highly incriminating document I could possibly find.
The green progress bar moved agonizingly slow, aggressively feeding my growing, terrifying paranoia that a random security guard might suddenly walk in on me.
But the incredibly quiet office remained perfectly, beautifully still, allowing me to successfully copy twenty years of devastating corporate fraud in mere, precious minutes.
I securely zipped the heavy flash drive into the hidden pocket of my winter coat, feeling the immense, terrifying power of their total destruction resting against my chest.
I left the opulent, expensive office exactly as I found it, incredibly carefully wiping all my fingerprints completely off the keyboard and the heavy oak desk.
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As I walked out into the crisp, freezing morning air, I couldn't help but smile widely through the agonizing, sharp pain in my fractured jaw.
Arthur loved his stolen, dirty money significantly more than his own flesh and blood, and I was going to make absolutely sure he lost every single penny.
