Chapter 3 - The Panic at the Country ClubJason’s illusion of triumph lasted precisely forty-eight hours.
On Wednesday afternoon, my phone lit up with an incoming call from an unknown number. I let it ring to voicemail. A second later, it rang again. And again.
I swiped to answer.
“Evelyn! What the hell is going on?” Jason’s voice was pitched an octave higher than usual, cracking with raw, unfiltered panic. “I tried to pay for a retainer with my business card and it bounced! The bank manager is telling me all commercial lines associated with my name have been frozen under a federal fraud audit!”
“Fascinating,” I replied, my voice smooth and detached. “Sounds like a liquidity crisis, Jason. Have you tried asking Brittany’s father to bail you out? Oh wait, that’s our father, and he only funds her shopping sprees when she’s single.”
“Evelyn, stop playing games!” he shouted, background noise indicating he was standing in the middle of a crowded restaurant or lobby. “I need those accounts unfrozen now! We have a baby coming—two babies! I need the house, I need the liquidity to secure the mortgage transfer!”
“You asked for the house, the cars, and the investments,” I reminded him calmly. “And I gave them to you. Every single cent of debt, every single liability, and every single encumbrance attached to them.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Read the fine print of the asset forfeiture clause, Jason. You wanted to dissolve the marriage because of my ‘broken body’? Fine. But a liquidation sale means you take the liabilities along with the assets. Your firm’s secret off-the-books real estate deals? They’re tied to those exact lines of credit. Enjoy explaining to your senior partners why your personal accounts are linked to a corporate embezzlement audit.”
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The line went dead.
I set my phone down on the desk, picked up my red pen, and marked another checkmark on my ledger.
