So, Steph isn't the only one that can visit denial land. I knew this week was going to be stressful, so instead of being productive and getting prepared last week, I decided it would be a better idea to write a story. This story is complete (yay!), so I'll be posting regularly. Besides this prologue, there are eight chapters plus an epilogue and it's a fairly fluffy Babe HEA. It's the first thing I've written that wasn't a one shot in over a decade, so feedback is appreciated!

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E.E. Martin Redone - Prologue

My life is shit.

Six month ago, everything was going great. I'd paid off all the debt I'd been left with after kicking my cheating, rat bastard of an ex-husband to the curb. I'd improved my credit rating which had been trashed after the divorce. I even had my own cute little apartment and a cuter Miata. That great life was funded by my less than glamorous job as a lingerie buyer for E.E. Martin. It wasn't the most exciting job in the world, but I didn't hate it, which was more than most people could say.

And then everything came crashing down.

From what I understood at the time, E.E. Martin was somehow involved with the mob and money laundering. Someone had decided to cut corners and stop greasing the right palms which resulted in the FBI knocking on our door.

One thing led to another and nearly every salaried employee was laid off after being asked to turn over all of our records to the investigators. What was left of E.E. Martin was quickly absorbed by Baldicott Inc and for a month I thought that was the end of it.

I quickly found out that as a former E.E. Martin employee I was tainted by association and viewed as something of a leper in the job market. The only work I had managed to find was temp office work doing filing. It had kept my bills paid well enough that I hadn't had to move back in with my parents, but I was barely scraping by.

Then, one evening, some FBI agents showed up at my apartment. They'd been waiting outside when I got home and I felt a flutter of anxiety as soon as I saw them.

"Stephanie Plum?" the first agent had asked.

I'd only nodded, flicking my eyes back and forth between them.

"You're under arrest for illegal business practices, money laundering and conspiracy," said the second agent.

"Wait! What the hell are you talking about?" I asked, broken out of my silence. "I didn't do any of that stuff."

The first agent just calmly moved to cuff my arms behind my back while the second started to read me my rights.

The next few hours passed in a blur, but I managed to gather that I was being accused of participating in the criminal activity that had been going on at E.E. Martin. Apparently when the forensic accountants had done their thing, the money trail had led through some of my accounts.

My role with the company had largely been purchasing nylon support hose from bargain distributors. The majority of the sensible, low cost undergarments bought by the senior citizens of the area were first purchased by me for significantly less per unit.

But that's not what the company records had shown. Apparently, E.E. Martin had been paying La Perla prices for Fruit of the Loom quality knickers.

It was news to me and I spent most of the time up to my arraignment in a state of shock. I even had to be prodded by the lawyer my parents had rushed to find when it was time to respond with my 'not guilty' plea.

My bail was set at $50,000 which almost made me pass out until my dad called my sleazy cousin Vinnie who conveniently owned a bail bonds office.

And just like that, I was free. But, not really because that was when things really started to go to shit.

It turned out that charges like the ones I'd been accused of weren't good for your career. Word had somehow gotten back to the temp agency I was working with and they'd politely informed me that they would no longer be able to place me for work. Great.

The few resumes I'd submitted had been rejected and I'd quickly realized that my best option to avoid blowing through my savings was to move back in with my parents. It was less than ideal, but I wanted to keep my head above water.

So, one week later, my apartment was sublet. I found myself back in my childhood bedroom, sharing a bathroom with my parents and grandmother. Everything was just great.

That first night, after surviving dinner and helping my mom clean up the kitchen, I excused myself and dropped onto my uncomfortable twin bed. I tossed and turned and finally did my best to sprawl into my thinking position.

I knew I hadn't done any of the thing's I'd been accused of, but someone wanted to make it look like I had. But who? And why?