Chapter 3 - The Mistress’s AwakeningBy Wednesday afternoon, the shockwaves of Ethan’s financial exposure had officially breached the walls of his downtown corporate office.
Word travels fast in Chicago’s corporate circles, especially when a high-level senior vice president gets slapped with a federal asset-freeze injunction and a multi-million-dollar marital dissipation lawsuit.
I was sitting at my desk in my own office downtown when my cell phone buzzed with an unknown, restricted number.
I stared at it for a moment before swiping the screen.
“Hello?”
“Claire?” a voice breathed on the other end. It was high-pitched, strained, and unmistakably panicked.
I didn't answer right away. I let the silence stretch for three agonizing seconds.
“Who is this?” I asked coldly.
“It’s... it’s Vanessa Reed.”
A cold, dark sense of satisfaction washed over me. I leaned back in my ergonomic leather chair, spinning my pen between my fingers. “Well, Vanessa. You sound different over the phone than you do on your Instagram stories. Where are the white tulips?”
There was a ragged gasp on the other end. “Claire, please. You have to listen to me. I need you to call off your lawyers.”
“Call off my lawyers?” I echoed, letting out a sharp chuckle. “Excuse me, Vanessa, but I don't control my legal team’s litigation strategy. If you have an issue with the civil subpoenas, you should take it up with your own attorney—assuming Ethan’s current financial crisis leaves you enough money to afford one.”
“You don't understand!” Vanessa cried out, her voice cracking with hysteria. “Ethan told me you guys had been separated for months! He swore to me that your marriage was completely over legally, that you were just living together as roommates until the divorce papers were finalized!”
I stopped spinning my pen. My eyes narrowed. “And you believed him?”
“He showed me text messages! He showed me a draft of an agreement!” she sobbed. “And now... now my corporate accounts have been flagged because of the Apex Ventures transfer. Human resources at the firm called me into a disciplinary hearing this morning because of your lawsuit naming my address in the asset recovery motion. I’m going to lose my job, Claire! My entire career is ruined!”
I let out a cold, unyielding sigh.
“Vanessa, let me give you a piece of advice that will save you a lot of future heartache,” I said, my voice dropping an octave into a razor-sharp whisper. “When a married man tells you his wife is just a roommate, he isn't setting you free. He’s auditioning you for a part in his betrayal.”
“Please, you can drop me from the lawsuit! I’ll give back the money! I’ll return the designer bags, I’ll give back the jewelry—”
“Talk to the federal forensic auditors about returning the money, Vanessa,” I interrupted coldly. “Because every single penny of that one hundred and twenty thousand dollars is tracked by an electronic paper trail. If you attempt to liquidate or hide any asset currently tied to Apex Ventures, my attorneys will add you as an active co-conspirator in federal wire fraud.”
I didn't wait for her hysterical reply. I tapped the red end-call button, silencing her desperate pleas forever.
I tossed my phone onto the desk, stood up, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling office window. Down below, the autumn wind was carrying golden leaves across the bustling Chicago streets.
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Ethan had thought he could compartmentalize his life—keeping a wife at home for domestic stability and a mistress downtown for validation, juggling both with arrogant impunity.
Instead, he had built a house of cards on quicksand. And the storm was just getting started.
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