One morning Gabriel woke up to headlines: his company under investigation for financial misconduct. Accounts drained. Funds moved into shell corporations. Signed authorizations—bearing his name.
Employees avoided his gaze. Investors disappeared.
But nothing hurt like hearing his eight-year-old daughter, Isabella, cry from the back seat as her mother drove away.
“Dad… they say you’re a criminal.”
Those words echoed in his head every night.
His wife, Lauren, couldn’t withstand the pressure.
“I can’t do this anymore, Gabe,” she said, her voice tired. “Parents at school whisper. Isabella came home crying because they called you a thief.”
“You know me,” he begged. “I would never steal.”
“I know what you say. But the documents are there. The transfers. Your signature.”
“They’re forged. Adrian had access to everything—”
“Adrian?” she said, disbelief clouding her eyes. “He came to me worried. He said he found suspicious activity.”
Gabriel felt something inside him snap.
“He lied to you.”
“I’m taking the kids to my mother’s in Milwaukee,” she said quietly. “Until this is resolved.”
“Please… don’t leave.”
“I’m sorry.”
She left. Changed her number. Vanished from his reach.