Chapter 3 - “He didn’t report it.”
My stomach sank.
“He tried to fix it quietly.”
“That’s not necessarily illegal.”
“No.”
Jasmine looked directly at me.
“But signing certifications he knew might be misleading could be.”
I sat back.
“Why tell me this?”
Her eyes filled unexpectedly.
“Because Aaron isn’t the only person I’ve been lying to.”
Then she said something I never expected.
“I’m not sleeping with your husband.”
I stared at her.
I actually laughed.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
“Hotel rooms?”
“Meetings.”
“Until six in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Perfume?”
“Probably mine.”
“Earrings?”
She looked confused.
“What earrings?”
“The diamond drops.”
“Claire, Aaron never bought me jewelry.”
I studied her.
“Then what exactly are you saying?”
She leaned forward.
“Aaron wanted everyone to think we were having an affair.”
My skin prickled.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the first moment fear replaced anger.
Nathan examined the flash drive.
Forensic accountants examined it next.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Prescott Global wasn’t merely overleveraged.
Someone had been disguising hundreds of millions of dollars in exposure through subsidiaries for years.
Some entries predated Aaron becoming CEO.
Nathan called me at 10:40 one night.
“Claire, your divorce just became the least complicated part of this situation.”
“How bad?”
“If these records are authentic, Prescott could face lender defaults, regulatory investigations, possibly criminal exposure.”
“What about Aaron?”
“Depends on what he knew.”
I thought about Jasmine.
“Could he have created the appearance of an affair deliberately?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathan went silent.
Then:
“Who sent you the photographs?”
“I still don’t know.”
“Find out.”
The next morning, I called Aaron.
For the first time since the Slack message.
He answered immediately.
“Claire?”
“Come to Nathan’s office.”
“Why?”
“Come alone.”
“Claire—”
“Eleven o’clock.”
Then I hung up.
Aaron arrived at 10:53.
He looked ten years older.
Nathan placed copies of the financial records on the table.
Aaron’s face drained of color.
“Where did you get these?”
I watched him.
“Jasmine.”
He closed his eyes.
That reaction told me everything.
“You knew.”
Aaron sank into a chair.
“How much do you know?”
“Enough.”
Nathan spoke.
“Mr. Prescott, I advise you to obtain independent corporate counsel.”
Aaron ignored him.
He looked at me.
“Claire, I was trying to protect you.”
I laughed.
“By pretending to cheat on me?”
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
“Explain.”
Aaron rubbed both hands over his face.
“My father called me into his office eight months ago.
He showed me the real books.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
Charles Prescott.
The revered founder.
The patriarch who lectured everyone about integrity.
Aaron continued.
“The company has been hiding losses for almost a decade.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“My father expanded too quickly after 2015.
Some acquisitions collapsed.
He started shifting debt around to buy time.”
“And you inherited it.”
“Yes.”
“Why not report it?”
“Because Prescott employs thousands of people worldwide.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I thought I could repair it.”
Nathan said quietly, “So you concealed it.”
Aaron looked at him.
“I bought time.”
Then he turned back to me.
“Six months ago, I learned something else.”
“What?”
“My father knew about Hawthorne.”
My pulse stopped.
Aaron watched my face.
“Not your ownership.
But he knew Hawthorne controlled enough of our debt to force restructuring.”
I said nothing.
“He became obsessed with finding leverage over Hawthorne.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Aaron swallowed.
“Everything.”
Then he said:
“My father suspected your family was connected to Hawthorne before we ever met.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“I didn’t know when we married.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not.”
He reached inside his coat and placed an envelope on the table.
Inside were photocopies of emails.
Charles Prescott.
My father.
Years earlier.
Nathan read them first.
His expression hardened.
I grabbed them.
One message was dated seven months before Aaron and I met.
Charles: If Claire and Aaron connect naturally, our families’ interests become considerably easier to align.
My father’s reply:
Robert: Claire is not an asset to be negotiated.
Keep business separate.
Charles:
Naturally.
I’m only suggesting an introduction.
My hands began shaking.
Aaron whispered, “My father arranged the charity dinner where we met.”
I remembered it.
The museum.
The champagne.
Aaron bumping into me near the sculpture gallery.
Our ridiculous argument about whether modern art required talent.
I had believed it was accidental.
“Did you know?”
“Not then.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
I looked at him.
“And that’s when you started disappearing.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“My father told me if Hawthorne discovered the company’s condition, they’d take control.”
“What does Jasmine have to do with it?”
“She works in strategy.
She helped me investigate the subsidiaries.”
“At hotels?”
“We couldn’t use company systems.”
“Why make it look like an affair?”
Aaron looked ashamed.
“That wasn’t originally intentional.”
“Originally?”
“My father had people watching me.”
The anonymous photographs.
Suddenly I understood.
“Your father sent them to me.”
“I think so.”
“Why?”
Aaron’s eyes filled.
“Because he wanted you to divorce me.”
That made no sense.
Then Nathan understood before I did.
“The prenup.”
Aaron nodded.
“What about it?” I asked.
Nathan looked at me.
“Claire, if you divorced Aaron under certain circumstances, would Charles believe Hawthorne exposure disappeared?”
“Yes,” Aaron said.
“He thinks Claire’s family influence is the reason Hawthorne hasn’t called our debt.”
I stared at my husband.
“So your father manufactured an affair?”
“He exploited one.”
I froze.
“One?”
Aaron looked down.
And there it was.
The truth beneath the lie.
“Jasmine and I never slept together.”
“But someone else?”
His silence answered.
My chest tightened.
“Who?”
“Claire—”
“Who?”
He whispered:
“Rebecca Lane.”
I knew her.
A consultant.
Married.
Two children.
It had happened twice.
Aaron confessed everything.
There had been no love.
No grand romance.
Just selfishness.
Afterward, his father discovered it and realized an affair could be useful.
Jasmine became the visible decoy because she was constantly working with Aaron.
Charles fed photographs to me.
Hotel sightings.
Anonymous tips.
He wanted a scandalous divorce.
He wanted me furious enough to disappear from Prescott affairs.
I sat there feeling something strangely close to peace.
“So the affair everyone thought you were having was fake.”
“Yes.”
“But you still cheated.”
“Yes.”
“And your father weaponized it.”
“Yes.”
I stood.
Aaron stood too.
“Claire, please.”
“No.”
“I was trying to protect you after I realized what he was doing.”
“You could have told me.”
“My father threatened your family.”
That stopped me.
“How?”
“He said if I told you anything, he’d release documents claiming your father had participated in lender manipulation.”
“My father would never—”
May you like
“I know.”
Aaron’s voice broke.
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