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David dropped the phone. The sound of it hitting the linoleum was like a gunshot. He looked at Allison, then at his sister, then at the doctor. The world he had built on a foundation of lies was dissolving in real-time.
“The condo,” David whispered, a cold dread coiling in his gut. “I signed the papers for that luxury condo using company capital as a ‘draw.’ If the IRS is there…”
“Mister David?” a nurse interrupted, her voice cool. “We tried to process the payment for today’s VIP session. The card was declined. It says ‘Account Frozen by Court Order.’”
David grabbed the card from her hand, his eyes bloodshot. “That’s impossible! I have half a million in that liquid account!”