The autumn wind outside the dance studio felt like a physical blow against Claire’s burning cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in her chest.

Claire, Brooke, Elena, and Maya sat around a round mahogany table. On the center of the table sat a sleek silver laptop displaying a public legal docket update from the federal court district.

United States v. Jason Miller: Indictment Filed for Wire Fraud and Financial Embezzlement.

Brooke stared at the screen, her jaw slightly slack. She shook her head slowly, a mixture of disbelief and vindication washing over her face. “Federal charges? Good grief. I knew he was shady, but I didn't take him for a white-collar criminal.”

“He wasn't just hiding girlfriends,” Elena added, swirling her glass of white wine. “He was funding a lifestyle he couldn't afford through sheer illegal chicanery. Figures. Men like that always think the rules apply to everyone except them.”

Maya looked at Claire, her eyes filled with quiet respect. “When did you find out about the offshore accounts, Claire?”

“Through my investigator right before the indictment dropped,” Claire replied calmly, cutting into her steak. “He liquidated our joint bonds and corporate stock options behind my back to keep his dual lives afloat. He was robbing Peter to pay Paul—or in his case, robbing Claire to fund Brooke, Elena, and Maya.”

Brooke groaned playfully, hiding her face in her hands. “Ugh, please don't group me into his financial portfolio. I paid for my own half of every single dinner we had, thank you very much.”

“We all did, honey,” Maya patted Brooke’s shoulder with a grin. “That’s the funniest part. He was cheating on us emotionally, lying to us structurally, and we were still footing half our own bills.”

The table erupted into bright, genuine laughter—a sound so full of life and freedom that it completely chased away any lingering shadows of the past.

“To federal indictments,” Elena raised her glass high.