Chapter 5 - Brooke Sinclair’s Fatal Miscalculation
In Miami, the panic had fully set in.
Ethan had abandoned his mimosa, dumped a frantic Brooke at the hotel lobby, and managed to secure a last-minute commercial flight back to San Francisco using a secret emergency cash stash he kept in his shaving kit. He was desperate, sweating through his shirt, and utterly convinced he could talk his way out of this if he could just see Hannah face-to-face.
But Brooke Sinclair was not a woman who stuck around sinking ships.
The moment Ethan’s corporate cards were declined, Brooke realized her four-carat diamond dream was dead. More importantly, she realized that Ethan was no longer a rising pharmaceutical executive with an expense account—he was a disgraced, broke nobody facing federal investigation.
Instead of going to the airport with him, Brooke called an Uber straight to the Miami offices of Ashford-Pacific’s regional branch.
She walked into the sleek, glass-walled lobby wearing designer sunglasses and a white linen dress, marching right up to the front desk.
“Listen to me,” Brooke announced to the receptionist with an imperious toss of her blonde hair. “I need to speak to the senior vice president immediately. My name is Brooke Sinclair. Ethan Monroe is my fiancé—well, soon to be—and I have vital information regarding his corporate accounts that the company will want to know.”
The receptionist, a sharp-eyed woman named Sarah who had worked for Ashford Health Systems for twelve years, looked up slowly.
“You’re Brooke Sinclair?” Sarah asked smoothly.
“Yes! Ethan has been keeping me informed of everything, and quite frankly, his financial maneuvers were entirely his own idea—I had nothing to do with the shell companies or the offshore transfers. If the company is pressing charges, I am fully prepared to cooperate as a witness against him.”
Sarah picked up her desk phone, pressed a single extension, and spoke quietly.
“Mr. Vance? Yes, she’s right here in the lobby. Asking to cooperate against Mr. Monroe.”
A moment later, two men in dark suits stepped out of the private elevators and walked across the lobby, flanking a woman holding a legal briefcase.
Brooke smiled, thinking cavalry had arrived to reward her loyalty. “Oh, thank goodness. I can tell you all about Ethan’s secret bank accounts in the Caymans—”
“Miss Sinclair,” the lead attorney interrupted, not smiling at all. “I am counsel for Ashford Health Systems. You are not here to cooperate as a witness. You are here to receive a subpoena.”
Brooke’s smile froze. “A... a what?”
“A civil subpoena and a federal joinder notice,” the attorney said crisply, handing her a thick packet of documents. “Our forensic audit of V&C Holdings—named after Vanessa and Claire... oh, excuse me, Ethan and yourself—reveals that over one point two million dollars in corporate travel expenses, luxury hotel stays in Miami, and jewelry purchases were fraudulently charged to Ashford Health Systems subsidiary accounts under false pretenses.”
Brooke’s face drained of color. “That’s... that’s impossible! Ethan bought those for me!”
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“Using stolen corporate funds,” the attorney finished. “Which makes you an active recipient of stolen property and a co-conspirator in wire fraud. Federal marshals are waiting outside to escort you to the federal district court. Have a pleasant afternoon, Miss Sinclair.”
As the two men gently but firmly took her by the elbows, Brooke let out a small, horrified shriek, her designer sunglasses sliding down her nose and shattering against the marble floor.
