Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Rossi
The holding cell at the Midtown North Precinct was cold, smelled of old sweat, and was crowded with people Dominic would normally never look at. He sat in the corner, his expensive suit wrinkled, his tie gone, his hair disheveled.
He had spent the last four hours trying to make a phone call.
Every time he called his mother, she told him the family bank accounts had been frozen. Every time he called his investors at Vanguard, they told him the deal was dead.
"Rossi!" a guard called out, banging on the metal bars. "Your lawyer is here. Conference Room B."
Dominic scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over his own shoelaces. "Finally!"
He was led into a small, sterile room with a stainless-steel table. But instead of his corporate attorney, a tall, elegant woman in a sharp navy suit was sitting there. She was holding a thick manila folder.
"Who are you?" Dominic demanded, sitting opposite her. "Where is Henderson?"
"Mr. Henderson’s firm was acquired by Brooks Global at two-thirty this afternoon, Mr. Rossi," the woman said, her voice smooth and cold. "I am Sarah Jenkins, head of the legal division for Brooks Global. I am here representing your wife, Audrey."
Dominic let out a harsh laugh. "Audrey? She hired you? With what money? She doesn't have a dime!"
Sarah Jenkins smiled, a small, terrifyingly professional expression. "Mr. Rossi, your ignorance would be amusing if it weren't so pathetic. Audrey Brooks does not need to hire me. I am on her family's payroll. Along with four hundred other attorneys across three continents."
Dominic’s smile vanished. "Her... family?"
"Audrey is the sole heiress to Brooks Global Corporation," Sarah said, sliding a document across the table. "Her father, Charles Brooks, is currently worth four point six billion dollars. The construction company you thought he owned? That is the primary development arm of a conglomerate that owns forty percent of the commercial real estate in Manhattan."
Dominic stared at the document. It was a copy of Brooks Global's corporate registry, with Audrey’s name listed as Executive Vice President and primary beneficiary of the family trust.
"No..." Dominic whispered, his face turning a sickly shade of gray. "No, that’s impossible. She... she lived in a small apartment. Her clothes... her father wore old sweaters..."
"Because she wanted to find a man who loved her for who she was, not her money," Sarah said, her voice dripping with disdain. "And instead, she found you. A man who put her on a city bus five days after a major surgery so your mother could have lunch."
"I... I can explain!" Dominic stammered, leaning forward. "It was a misunderstanding! I was stressed about the Vanguard deal. I love Audrey! I love our son, Leo!"
"You love her money, which you are never going to touch again," Sarah corrected, sliding a second set of papers across the table. "These are divorce papers. You will sign them today. You will relinquish all parental rights to Leo Brooks. In exchange, the Brooks family will not pursue the grand larceny charges, nor will we release the financial audit of your tech company to the federal tax authorities."
Dominic gasped. "The federal tax authorities? What are you talking about?"
"We’ve spent the last six hours reviewing your corporate accounts, Mr. Rossi," Sarah said calmly. "It seems you’ve been using your seed capital to pay for your parents' mortgage and Natalie's private school tuition, listing them as 'consulting fees.' That is corporate fraud and tax evasion. If we hand these files to the IRS, you won't be looking at a few nights in jail for a stolen car. You’ll be looking at fifteen years in a federal penitentiary."
Dominic’s breath became shallow. He looked at the signature line on the divorce papers.
"If I sign..." he whispered, his voice cracking. "What happens to my company?"
"Rossi Technologies is already gone, Mr. Rossi," Sarah said. "The assets have been liquidated to cover your outstanding lease penalties. You are broke. Your parents are about to lose their home, and your sister’s tuition is unpaid. Sign the papers, and you at least walk out of here a free man. Or refuse, and I will personally ensure you spend the next decade eating prison food."
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Dominic stared at the pen on the table. The grand future he had imagined—the luxury cars, the investor meetings, the billionaire status—had vanished like smoke in a strong wind.
With a shaking hand, he picked up the pen and signed his name.
