Chapter 2My Enemy Built My Alibi

"You're done, Miles! Fired, effective immediately!"

Bradley stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his tailored suit straining slightly over his stomach.

"Pack your shit and get out! Scum like you don't belong in the financial sector."

He turned to the head of Legal standing over his shoulder. "Call the NYPD right now. A predator like this needs to be locked away."

Before the words fully left his mouth, a petite figure pushed her way through the crowd of onlookers.

It was the new intern, Paige.

The same shy, wide-eyed girl I had protected at last month’s client dinner by quietly intercepting three shots of whiskey meant for her.

Right now, her clothes were disheveled. She was clutching the collar of her silk blouse, where a button had conveniently popped off, sobbing inconsolably.

"No, please... don't call the police. Don't make this a public spectacle. I still have to build a career in this city..."

She gasped for air, looking up at me with eyes swimming with manufactured terror.

"Miles... I respected you so much. How could you do something so disgusting to me?"

The trading floor instantly erupted into a low, vicious murmur.

"Animal."

"I can't believe Miles is capable of that. And I actually looked up to the guy. What a joke."

"He's a stain on this firm."

Bradley soaked in the atmosphere. He looked incredibly satisfied.

He pulled two documents from his leather folder and slapped them down hard on my trading desk.

One was a Notice of Termination of Employment Contract. The other was a Voluntary Confession and Letter of Repentance.

"Sign it, Miles."

"Walk away with whatever shred of dignity you have left. If you sign, the firm will consider your past contributions and we'll handle this internally without pressing criminal charges."

He leaned in closer, dropping his voice. "If you fight this, I'll mail these photos directly to your sick mother's hospital room. Let her see exactly what kind of monster she raised."

"I'll make sure every hedge fund and bank in Manhattan knows that Miles Stratton is a predator who can't keep it in his pants. You will never touch a Bloomberg terminal again as long as you live."

I lowered my eyes, reading the text of the confession letter.

I, Miles Stratton, hereby admit that between the hours of 2:30 PM and 3:00 PM today, in the firm's 44th-floor rest lounge, I engaged in inappropriate and non-consensual physical conduct with Paige...

2:30 PM to 3:00 PM.

My catastrophic, firm-ending trade had executed precisely at 2:47 PM.