Chapter 2 - The Soft Sell
Two days later, Daniel returned. He had been "staying with friends," which meant he had been crashing on a couch while his ego recovered. He came through the front door with a bouquet of lilies—white, funeral flowers.
"I lost my head, Elena," he said, his voice dripping with forced humility. "Lorraine is so sorry. She wants to help us move past this. Just sign the papers for the apartment, and we can put this whole mess behind us. We can start fresh."
He reached for my hand. I pulled it away, not with anger, but with a clinical flick of my wrist.
"I've been thinking about what you said," I lied, my voice steady. "You're right. Family is everything. Maybe I have been too protective of the apartment."
His eyes lit up with a greedy, dangerous flicker. He thought he had broken me. He thought the blood on the floor two nights ago had frightened me into submission.
"I need a few things from the office," I continued. "I’m auditing the books to make sure the transfer looks clean for the tax authorities. I don't want the IRS coming after us if the valuation is off. I need you to help me reconcile the last three years of your company’s sub-contractor payments."
He frowned, hesitant. "Why do you need to do that? My accountant handles that."
"Your accountant is a hack, Daniel," I said, offering a small, sad smile. "If you want this apartment, you need the paperwork to be bulletproof. Do you want the city to seize it because you were sloppy? Or do you want me to fix it for you?"
May you like
He sighed, vanity overriding his caution. "Fine. But let's get it done quickly."
For the next week, I played the part of the devoted, wounded wife. I had him sitting at the desk for hours, forced to explain every suspicious transfer. Every time he stumbled, I "helped" him by suggesting he mislabeled an expense. In reality, I was coaching him to admit to wire fraud. I recorded every session.
