Chapter 1 - The Wi-Fi Connection
The hum of the aircraft engines felt deafening in the silence that stretched across the first-class cabin. Marcus sat frozen, his hand still hovering in the air where it had been stroking Mia’s hair just seconds before. Mia was pressed so hard against the leather seat she looked as though she was trying to merge with it, her eyes darting frantically between my face and the other passengers who were now pretending not to watch.
I didn't yell. I didn't throw my lukewarm airport espresso in his face. Hysteria is for people who do not have a plan. I, however, had spent the last eight months suspecting this exact scenario, and I was a woman who engineered multi-million-dollar architectural marvels. I knew how to bring a structure down with surgical precision.
Without breaking eye contact with my husband, I pulled my phone from my trench coat pocket. I had paid twenty-nine dollars for the in-flight premium Wi-Fi. It was about to be the best return on investment of my life.
I dialed a Seattle number, putting the phone on speaker and holding it at chest level.
The line rang twice before a deep, authoritative voice answered. "Elena. It’s 8:00 AM. You’re in the air. This must be the emergency protocol we discussed."
"It is, Richard," I said, my voice carrying clearly over the ambient noise of the cabin. Richard Sterling was not just my personal wealth manager; he was a senior partner at the most ruthless family law firm in Illinois, a man who had guided my family's estate long before I ever met Marcus. "Execute Directive Alpha."
Marcus’s jaw dropped. The color that had drained from his face was now replaced by a sickly, panicked gray. "Elena, wait—Elena, what are you doing? Put the phone away, let's talk about this!"
I ignored him. "Are the trusts secure?" I asked the phone.
"The Vanguard and Fidelity accounts have been entirely sequestered," Richard replied smoothly, the sound of a keyboard clacking in the background. "As of two minutes ago, your personal assets are walled off. I am currently executing the sweep on the joint checking and savings. All shared credit lines are being suspended. Does he have the Black Card on his person?"
"He does," I replied. "He used it to buy his assistant a first-class ticket to Seattle, it seems."
Mia let out a small, pathetic squeak.
"Understood," Richard said, a hint of dark amusement in his tone. "The American Express is now void. The locks on the Chicago loft are being digitally reset as we speak. I will have the formal divorce petition filed with the county clerk before your plane touches down at Sea-Tac. Anything else, Elena?"
"Cancel the lease on the BMW," I added, looking at Marcus’s trembling hands. "He can take an Uber. Thank you, Richard. I'll see you on Monday."
I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket.
"Elena, please," Marcus hissed, keeping his voice low, desperate not to make a bigger scene. "You can't do this! You're overreacting! We are just traveling for a conference! Mia was just... she was feeling airsick, I was comforting her!"
I let out a soft, melodic laugh that made the flight attendant standing nearby physically flinch.
"Airsick," I repeated. "That’s a remarkable diagnosis, Doctor Vance. Tell me, does curing airsickness usually involve booking a luxury suite at the Four Seasons under one name?"
Marcus choked on his next breath. He didn't know I had hired a private investigator three weeks ago. He didn't know I had the hotel receipts, the dinner reservations, and the diamond earrings he had purchased on my corporate dime.
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"I have three hours left on this flight," I said, my voice dropping to a glacial whisper. "I am going back to row seventeen. I suggest you spend the remaining time figuring out how you are going to pay for your return ticket, because as of this exact second, you are entirely broke."
I turned on my heel and walked back to economy. I put on my noise-canceling headphones, reclined my seat, and slept peacefully for the first time in months.
