[CONTENT TEMPLATE HERE]
Chapter 806:
The screen flickered. The green bar vanished. A bright red warning box appeared in the center of the screen.
Error 403: Access Denied. Account Frozen by Federal Mandate.
Alycia’s eyes stretched wide. “No, no, no.” She grabbed the mouse and clicked refresh over and over again. The screen locked entirely, turning a dead, unresponsive gray.
Panic seized her throat. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed the Citi Private Wealth VIP hotline. When the call connected, she deployed her most imperious high-society voice.
“This is Alycia Beasley. My black card is declining. I am trying to book a first-class ticket to Geneva. Fix it immediately p>
There was no polite apology from a concierge. Instead, a cold, robotic female voice spoke. “Please hold. Transferring you to the Senior Director of Compliance p>
A man’s voice came on the line, utterly devoid of emotion. “Ms. Beasley. We received an emergency directive from the Wall Street Clearing House ten minutes ago. Every account, credit line, and trust fund associated with your social security number has been permanently frozen p>
Alycia screamed into the phone. “You can’t do that! I will sue this bank into the ground! That is my legal money p>
𝗗i𝗌𝗰𝗼𝘷𝗲r 𝘯𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝘵𝘰𝗋𝗶𝖾𝘴 𝘰𝗇 galnоvе𝗹ѕ.𝗰𝗼𝘮
The director let out a short, dismissive scoff. “Unfortunately, the directive was tied to a Scythe protocol initiated by the Compton Group. Furthermore, the FBI has flagged your initial deposits for wire fraud investigation p>
“Listen to me p>
“Your credit rating within the United States financial system is currently zero,” the director interrupted. “Good luck, Ms. Beasley p>
The line clicked dead.
The phone slipped from Alycia’s sweaty fingers and hit the carpet. The blood drained from her face, leaving her skin ashen.
She frantically opened the apps on her phone. Apple Pay. Venmo. PayPal. Every single balance showed a red exclamation point.
She was broke. Seven years of meticulous lying, stealing, and manipulating — all of it wiped out in ten minutes by a single command from Cole.
Pure, animalistic panic took over. She grabbed her Chanel purse, shoved the few thousand dollars of loose cash from the bed into it, and ran out of the hotel room.
She had to get back to the Fifth Avenue penthouse. Her closet was full of millions of dollars worth of haute couture, Cartier jewelry, and Hermès bags. If she could pack them into suitcases, she could pawn them in South America and live like a queen.
She ran out onto the street and flagged down a yellow taxi. “Fifth Avenue. Drive fast!” she snapped at the driver.
The taxi crawled through the heavy Manhattan traffic. Alycia stared out the window, her fingernails digging into her palms. She blamed June for all of this. June was the cancer that had ruined her perfect life.
Thirty minutes later, the taxi pulled up to the curb outside the ultra-luxury apartment building. Alycia threw a hundred-dollar bill at the driver and sprinted toward the gold-plated revolving doors.
She stopped dead on the sidewalk.