Chapter 17 - The SummonsThree days later, a formal courier delivery arrived at Apex Financial Advisory. It wasn't addressed to Claire, but her name was listed as the primary financial witness on a federal subpoena issued by the Department of Justice’s financial crimes division.
Jason’s past had finally caught up with him, and the net was closing fast.
That evening, Claire sat in her downtown penthouse apartment, pouring herself a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, when her phone buzzed violently on the marble kitchen island.
It was an unknown number, but the area code matched the local jail holding facility downtown.
She stared at the glowing screen as it vibrated against the stone surface. For a long moment, she considered letting it go to voicemail. But a strange, compelling curiosity urged her to answer. She swiped the screen and brought the phone to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Claire?”
Jason’s voice sounded shattered, breathless, and soaked in absolute panic. It sounded like a man drowning in quicksand.
“Jason,” Claire said, her tone utterly flat. “How did you get this number?”
“It doesn't matter,” Jason choked out, a muffled sound of static and background noise bleeding through the speaker. “Claire, you have to help me. Please. Federal agents picked me up this morning at my office. They’re charging me with wire fraud, tax evasion, and corporate embezzlement.”
Claire took a slow sip of her wine, letting the rich liquid coat her tongue before she spoke. “I heard. Arthur Vance mentioned the shell company.”
There was a sharp gasp on the other end of the line. “You... you knew? You knew about the offshore accounts?”
“I know everything, Jason,” Claire replied smoothly. “I know about the liquidation of our joint bonds. I know about the falsified corporate filings. You didn't just build an empire of lies with Brooke, Elena, and Maya; you financed it by stealing from the woman who built your foundation.”
“I was desperate!” Jason sobbed openly now, his voice cracking into high-pitched panic. “Things were spinning out of control! The double lives, the apartments, the travel—it cost money, Claire! I needed funds, and I was stupid, I was so stupid—”
“Yes,” Claire interrupted, her voice cutting through his hysterics like a scalpel. “You were stupid. And now you get to experience the consequences of your own arithmetic.”
“Claire, please! You’re a financial expert! If you talk to the district attorney, if you tell them it was a misunderstanding, an accounting error—they’ll listen to you! You can save me!”
“Save you?” Claire let out a cold, humorless laugh that echoed in the quiet penthouse. “Jason, you spent eleven years telling me I was incapable, clumsy, and weak. You made me a ghost in my own marriage so you could play a character in someone else’s story. And now, the moment your house of cards collapses, you expect me to put on a cape and rescue you?”
“I’m your husband—”
“You were my husband,” Claire corrected sharply. “Past tense. Signed, sealed, and legally dissolved.”
“Claire, please! They’re talking five to ten years! I’ll go to prison!”
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“Then I suggest you start practicing your defense,” Claire said calmly. “Because unlike your tango lessons, prison doesn't let you fake the steps.”
She tapped the red end call button, severed the connection, and dropped the phone face down onto the kitchen island.
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