Chapter 2 - The Freeze
The aftermath of the baby shower was a masterclass in silent, clinical efficiency. I didn’t cry. I didn't scream. The betrayal was too deep for tears; it had bypassed sorrow entirely and hardened into cold, absolute resolve.
By the time the sun set, Marcus’s bags were packed and sitting on the front porch. I had changed the codes to the smart locks, disabled his access to the garage, and called my attorney, a ruthless woman named Sarah who charged eight hundred dollars an hour and was worth every single penny.
At 8:00 AM on Monday, I was sitting in Sarah's sleek downtown office, a steaming cup of herbal tea in my hands.
"He's been texting me non-stop," I told her, placing my phone face down on the glass desk. It had been vibrating every three minutes for the last twelve hours. Marcus begging for forgiveness. Marcus claiming Chloe had manipulated him. Marcus blaming the stress of the 'fertility journey.'
"Let him text," Sarah said, typing furiously on her laptop. "It's all a written record of his infidelity and unstable behavior. I've already drafted the divorce petition. Now, Eleanor, we need to talk about the assets. You mentioned you noticed some discrepancies in your joint business accounts last month?"
I nodded, a sickening feeling twisting in my gut. I owned a highly successful boutique PR firm. Marcus was technically a 'consultant' for the company, a vanity title I had given him to stroke his fragile ego. "I thought it was just poor bookkeeping. A few thousand here, a few thousand there."
"I had my forensic accountant look into the statements you forwarded me," Sarah said, turning her screen toward me. "He wasn't just skimming, Eleanor. Over the last six months, Marcus has funneled roughly eighty thousand dollars into a secondary checking account. An account co-signed by Chloe."
My breath hitched. They hadn't just been sleeping together. They had been stealing from me. Chloe’s designer bags, the sudden "promotions" she bragged about on Facebook—it was all funded by my hard work.
"They were building a nest egg," I whispered, the sheer audacity of it taking my breath away. "With my money."
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"Exactly," Sarah replied, her eyes narrowing with predatory focus. "Which elevates this from a simple messy divorce to corporate embezzlement and wire fraud. Tomorrow morning, we freeze all of his accounts. Every single cent. When he wakes up, his credit cards will decline, and his bank app will show zeroes."
I touched my stomach, feeling a strong kick from my baby. I smiled, a tight, dangerous expression. "Do it."
