Chapter 2 - The Ex-Husband’s Panic
I swiped the green button and held the phone to my ear, keeping my eyes fixed on the man who owned half the skyline downtown.
"Claudia?" Trent’s voice rushed through the speaker, breathless, erratic, and utterly frantic. There was no trace of the cold, rehearsed detachment he had worn on Christmas Eve. In the background, I could hear the faint, muffled sound of police sirens and traffic. "Claudia, are you watching the news? What the hell is happening on your street?"
"I'm busy, Trent," I said, my voice unnervingly calm.
"Busy? Claudia, look outside! There is an entire private army of black Escalades blocking the intersection! My business partners are calling me nonstop—Wellington Industries just froze all municipal supply contracts in the tri-state area without explanation, and their legal team is auditing every subsidiary I've ever touched. Did you inherit something? Did an aunt die?"
A dark, bitter laugh slipped past my lips. "No, Trent. No aunt died."
"Then what is going on? Chloe and I were trying to have lunch at the country club, and security wouldn't even let our car through the gates because my address matches yours. They said we're tied to a 'high-priority asset protection zone.' What did you do?"
"I gave away a pair of boots," I said.
Silence hung on the line for three agonizing seconds.
"Are you out of your mind? You’re freezing me out over winter gear? Claudia, listen to me. We need to talk about the asset division. The house is in both our names, and Chloe wants us to list it by New Year’s—"
"The house is mine, Trent," I interrupted, stepping closer to Marcus, who stood with his hands folded behind his back, watching me with an expression of profound, terrifying amusement. "Everything is mine. And as for your business partners? I imagine they're starting to realize that marrying a twenty-eight-year-old intern doesn't grant you immunity when you cross paths with the man who signs their paychecks."
"Claudia, wait, don't hang up—"
I tapped the red button, cutting him off mid-sentence, and dropped the phone onto the entryway console. It felt like shedding a winter coat that had been soaked through with freezing rain for three decades.
"Well," Marcus murmured, a slow, appreciative smile touching the corners of his mouth. "That sounded cathartic."
"You froze his contracts?" I asked, crossing my arms. "Marcus, what did you do?"
"I didn't do anything malicious," he said smoothly. "My corporate compliance office simply flagged every individual associated with bad actors who exploit long-term personal contracts for short-term vanity. Wellington Industries has a very strict moral clause in its tier-one partnerships. Your husband’s firm happens to rely entirely on our distribution network."
May you like
He stepped closer, the rich scent of cedar and expensive cologne filling the small hallway.
"And now, Claudia, I need to ask you a favor that will likely make your husband's nightmare look like a walk in the park."
