If you are looking for Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable Chapter 732read online, you have come to the right place…
Chapter 732
Chapter 732:
A uniformed valet stepped forward immediately, guiding them toward the heavy mahogany doors of The Capital Grille. They walked inside. The air carried the scent of expensive dry-aged steak and the suffocating weight of political money. The maître d’ led them down a dimly lit hallway past a massive, temperature-controlled glass wine display.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the runaway Lancaster wife p>
The arrogant, venomous voice echoed off the glass walls.
Isolde stopped. She turned her head slowly.
ոо𝗏𝘦𝘭s 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗿𝖾𝘯d 𝘰ո
Director Daron stepped out of the shadows, a crystal glass of Scotch in his right hand. Two massive bodyguards flanked him, completely blocking the narrow hallway.
His jaw still bore the faint, jagged scar where Maxwell Hayes had shattered it weeks ago, visibly wired shut, which made his arrogant sneer look grotesque and forced. The hatred in his eyes was thick and toxic. He looked at Isolde as though she were something he was ready to carve.
“You think breaking my jaw changed anything?” Daron sneered, his words slightly slurred through the wire still holding his bone together. He stepped closer, invading her personal space. The smell of alcohol rolled off his breath. “My new syndicate partners and I have layers of capital you haven’t even begun to see. We are going to bleed Carson Dynamics dry from the shadows the second the market opens on Monday p>
Harper’s chest heaved. A hot wave of anger flushed her face. She took a step forward.
Isolde raised one hand without looking at her — palm up — and Harper froze instantly.
Isolde turned back to Daron. She did not meet his eyes. She studied his face with the cold, detached precision of a mortician examining a corpse.
“My associate, Nolan Reed, has a particular talent for tracking digital breadcrumbs,” she said. Her voice was perfectly flat, devoid of a single drop of emotion. “He was very interested in your recent activities. Cayman Islands. Account ending in 4409. Account ending in 8112. Account ending in 9004 p>
Daron’s arrogant smile died on his face.
The blood drained from him so quickly his skin turned a sickly ash gray. His pupils contracted to pinpricks of absolute terror.
Those were his three hidden, high-leverage offshore accounts — completely illegal, the core of his financial fraud, buried behind layers of shell companies. If the SEC ever saw those numbers, he was looking at twenty years in federal prison.
Isolde leaned forward until she was two inches from his face. The air around her felt like liquid nitrogen.
“If you touch a single share of Carson Dynamics,” she whispered, her voice slicing through the silence like a scalpel, “those account ledgers will be sitting on the desk of the FBI Financial Crimes Unit tomorrow morning p>
Daron’s hand jerked violently. The expensive Scotch splashed over the rim of his crystal glass, the dark amber liquid staining the front of his custom-tailored suit. He stared at her, chest heaving in rapid, panicked gasps, looking at her as though she had just crawled out of hell.
Isolde did not waste another second.
She turned her back on him. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor as she walked past the frozen, terrified man, leaving him standing in a puddle of his own spilled whiskey.