The list of supplier names appeared on the screen. Zelica recognized some names.
“And third—taxes,” Seek said. “He keeps two books. One for himself, one for the IRS. His tax evasion is massive.”
Zelica sat in silence. The man she had been married to for ten years—the man she cared for when he was sick—turned out to be a scammer, an extortionist, and a thief.
“Good,” she said. Her voice was steady.
Seek looked at her.
“Good?”
“Yes. This gives us a weapon. What is the next step?”
“Quacy is only focused on us. On those 2,000 acres,” Seek explained. “He doesn’t realize that his debt to the small suppliers is his weakest point.”
“I want you,” Zelica said slowly. “I want you to buy all that debt.”
Seek smiled.
“I assumed so. I have prepared three shell companies in Delaware. We will buy every outstanding invoice from those suppliers. We will pay cash.”
“The suppliers will be happy,” Zelica said.
“They will be very happy,” Seek replied. “And Quacy will know nothing. He will only feel relieved because the collectors will stop calling him. He will think we are going to give him capital.”
“How much time?” Zelica asked.
“Give me a week. In a week, Quacy Constructions Inc. will no longer owe anything to the small merchants. He will owe you.”
Exactly as Seek predicted, Quacy suddenly felt his life was easier. The calls from angry suppliers stopped. He considered this a good sign. He thought the news that he was going to collaborate with Okafor Legacy Holdings had scared the suppliers off.
He was very wrong.
Feeling the pressure decrease, he decided it was time to take the last step. He had to secure Zelica—not on a business level, but personal.
He knew the old Zelica was weak, forgiving, and still loved him.
He sent a bouquet of white roses, her favorites back then, to the Cascade mansion with a note:
I know I was wrong. Let’s talk like old times. Dinner at our usual spot.
Zelica almost threw the flowers away, but Seek stopped her.
“Go,” he said. “Let him dig his own grave deeper.”
That night, Zelica went to the upscale restaurant where Quacy had once proposed to her.
He was already waiting. He looked impeccable. He ordered the most expensive wine.
“Zel,” he said, taking her hand across the table.
