Devonate frowned. He rarely looked at that account; he deposited thirty thousand dollars a
month into it automatically, allowing Patricia to manage the estate staff, groceries, and her personal
shopping without needing to ask him for funds. "Go on."
"I was running a routine quarterly audit on all your personal assets, as per protocol, to ensure
tax compliance. I noticed a recurring anomaly. For the past twenty-two months, there have been
consistent, escalating transfers to a limited liability company called OEMAD LLC. It started at a
thousand dollars a month. Over the last year, it's escalated to five thousand dollars a month.
Occasional lump sums of ten to fifteen thousand dollars were also wired, labeled as 'equipment
investments' or 'seminar sponsorships'."
The temperature in Devonate's office seemed to drop several degrees. "Total amount?"
"One hundred and ten thousand, four hundred dollars, sir. I pulled the corporate registry for
OEMAD LLC. It stands for Okafor Elite Martial Arts Dojo. Registered owner is an Ivan Okafor."
Sarah paused, her voice softening with sympathetic hesitation. "Mr. Cross, I also noticed that the
timing of the large lump sum transfers frequently coincides with periods when you are traveling
internationally."
Devonate's mind raced, processing the data with terrifying speed. Patricia's karate classes. The
sudden obsession with fitness. The weekend retreats. The guarded phone. The pieces of the puzzle
slammed together, forming a picture of gross betrayal. It wasn't just infidelity; it was financial
parasitism. She was using the wealth he bled for to finance her lover.
"Thank you, Sarah," Devonate said, his voice dropping into the flat, emotionless register he
used in combat. "Freeze that account immediately. Flag any further transfer attempts. Do not
mention this to anyone, not even my personal assistant."
"Understood, sir. I am deeply sorry."
"Just doing your job, Sarah." Devonate hung up the phone. He didn't smash a glass. He didn't
yell. He simply sat in the silence of his office, feeling the familiar, icy calm of a soldier preparing for
a raid. The grieving would come later, if at all. Right now, there was a threat to neutralize.
F
Chapter 3: Gathering Intel
or the next forty-eight hours, Devonate Cross did not go home. He told Patricia he
was dealing with a crisis in the London office and checked into a suite at the Four Seasons.
From there, he mobilized the vast intelligence-gathering apparatus of Aegis Logistics. He treated
his wife and her lover as hostile targets, applying the full weight of his resources to uncover every
dirty secret they held.
He deployed Marcus, his chief investigator and a former CIA operative. Within twelve hours,
Marcus had Ivan Okafor's entire life laid bare on Devonate's desk. Ivan was a thirty-four-year-old