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Her Assistant Reported Me for Fraud,But I Own the Whole Company Novel Cover

Her Assistant Reported Me for Fraud,But I Own the Whole Company

An accidental charge on my wife's card lands me in police custody. The culprit behind my arrest? Her overzealous male assistant, who accuses me of stealing and demands to control my finances with a ridiculous seventy-dollar monthly limit. He thinks he is protecting his boss, but he has no idea who I really am. I fund my wife's accounts, pay his salary, and own the entire enterprise. It is time to show this arrogant assistant who actually holds the power in this family.
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Chapter 1

I tapped my subway card on the way out and accidentally charged the fare to my wife's linked payment account.

I'd barely stepped out of the station before two officers shoved me to the ground, telling me I was suspected of embezzling company funds.

They hauled me in for a full day of interrogation before I finally pieced it together: my wife's male assistant had reported me.

He even called me afterward.

"Mr. Fox, I'm the one who filed the report! Why weren't you spending your own money? Why did you charge it to Ms. Henson's account? How is that any different from stealing?"

"Ms. Henson earns every cent with blood, sweat, and tears. That money isn't for you to blow however you please! Consider today a lesson. From now on, I will be managing all of your expenses. Every single dollar you spend requires a formal company request submitted to me. You can only use the money once I approve it!"

"Oh, and your monthly spending cap is seventy dollars. You've already spent sixty-nine ninety-five today, so don't even think about spending another cent this month!"

I listened to him, so serious, so pleased with himself, and laughed.

The kid had been at the company for six months.

Just because my wife spoke politely to him, he'd started managing everything on her behalf, acting like he was her personal steward.

But he had no idea.

The company was mine. Every dollar in my wife's bank accounts was mine. Even his salary came out of my pocket.

And his precious "Ms. Henson"

was nothing more than a Cinderella who'd married up into my family.

Who gave him the right

to manage my family's money on my wife's behalf?

——

The officers heard every word Julius Swanson said through the phone,

then looked at my screen showing the linked payment notification: subway fare, $1.90.

Their faces went dark.

They offered me a formal apology and assured me they would notify my wife's company about their employee filing a false police report.

But I didn't have time for any of that. I rushed to the hospital.

My mother had been scheduled for surgery the previous afternoon. She needed my signature.

I never expected to get dragged away the second I stepped off the subway.

A full day and night lost. I didn't dare imagine how much her condition might have deteriorated.

I burst through the hospital doors and nearly collided with the doctors, who grabbed me by the arms.

"Hurry! Mr. Fox, sign now so we can prep for surgery!"

I signed as fast as my hand could move, then ran to the billing counter.

I handed over every bank card in my wallet.

The nurse slid them all back across the counter.

"Mr. Fox, there's nothing in any of these accounts."

My blood went cold.

"That's impossible! These cards have tens of millions between them at the very least! How can there be nothing left?"

Julius Swanson's words from earlier flashed through my mind, and it hit me: he must have transferred every last cent out of my accounts.

I pulled out my phone and called my wife.

A few rings, then the line connected.

"Honey, I—"

But instead of her voice, Julius Swanson's impatient tone cut through the speaker.

"Mr. Fox, are you serious right now? Give it a rest. So your spending got restricted. Is that really worth running to tattle about?"

"Let me save you the trouble: complaining won't change anything. Ms. Henson personally told me to rein you in."

I swallowed the anger clawing up my throat. There was no time to argue with him. I got straight to the point.

"I'm at the hospital. I need money. Transfer my funds back. Now."

"Or put my wife on the phone. I need to speak with her."

His voice came back through the line, dripping with self-importance:

"Ms. Henson is busy. She doesn't have time for your little problems. She's given me full authority to handle this."

"You need money? Sure. Do what I told you. Submit a formal company request. Once I approve it, the funds will be released."

"Oh, and just a reminder: you've got exactly one dollar left in your monthly allowance. Don't bother requesting more than that!"

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