My business partner Maya ordered $4,850 worth of vintage cognac and Wagyu steaks at an exclusive Buckhead restaurant, fully expecting me to settle the syndicate front's tab like I always did.
The notification on Maya’s phone wasn’t a call from her uncle; it was an alert from an Atlanta urban gossip blog. She looked at the screen, and a cruel, predatory smile slowly returned to her lips. It was a quick shift, almost practiced, from fear to vindictive glee.
“You think you’re clever, Darius?” She turned the screen toward me, pushing the phone across the table.
The headline, stark in bold letters, read: *LOCAL FREIGHT EXECUTIVE DARIUS HOLLOWAY INVESTIGATED FOR EMBEZZLING $1.2M FROM ATLANTA YOUTH FOUNDATION.*
“I launched that press release thirty minutes ago,” Maya whispered, her eyes flashing with malice. “It’s already spreading. By morning, every bank in Georgia will freeze your personal accounts. Every law firm will refuse to represent you. The public will hate you.”
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper.
“When my uncle’s crew picks you up tonight, nobody is going to ask where you went. They’ll just think you ran away with charity money, Darius. The $1.2 million you just had put on your social security number.”
I didn’t flinch. I kept my gaze steady on her.
“You really should have checked who owned that blog before you paid them $10,000 from the corporate account,” I said, my voice flat.
Maya frowned, her smile faltering. “What?”
“The editor of that outlet was subpoenaed yesterday by the state attorney general,” I said, watching her carefully. “It was all over the local legal forums. Every IP address submitting anonymous smear tips to their portal is being monitored by federal wire fraud units.”
Her phone buzzed again, this time with a text message from a blocked number. Maya picked it up, her face draining of color as she read the message. The smile completely vanished.
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