Chapter 2 - Altitude and Interrogation
The seatbelt sign chimed off with a polite ding, but the atmosphere inside Row 7 remained frozen in solid permafrost. Chloe slammed her plastic cup down onto the tray table, spilling a few drops of ginger ale onto Julian’s knuckles. He didn't even flinch. He was too busy staring at me as if I held a loaded pistol pointed directly at his temple.
“Julian, I asked you a question,” Chloe hissed, her voice rising an octave, drawing the disapproving glare of a businessman across the aisle. “Who is this woman? Why is she calling you Julian? What is going on?”
Julian finally found his voice, though it sounded like sandpaper grinding over gravel. “Chloe, please… just quiet down. Elena, let’s… let’s not make a scene here. We can talk about this when we land. In Chicago.”
I let out a low, melodic laugh that made Julian flinch. I slowly unzipped my leather folio, exposing the crisp edges of a manila folder resting inside. I didn't pull it out yet; I just let him see the label: HENDERSON & STERLING ATTORNEYS AT LAW - ASSET FREEZE DIVISION.
“Chicago?” I murmured, tilting my head as I looked out the small oval window at the white expanse of clouds below us. “That’s funny, Julian. Because when you kissed me goodbye on the front porch this morning, you told me you had back-to-back client meetings at the Palmer House in downtown Chicago. But according to our boarding passes, and according to the airline manifest, flight 412 is heading south-southwest. Flight 412 goes to Miami International Airport, gate D22.”
Chloe gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She whipped her head around to glare at Julian, her sophisticated facade cracking instantly. “Miami?! You told me you divorced your wife six months ago! You told me you were single and that you were taking me on a romantic weekend getaway to South Beach to celebrate our six-month anniversary!”
“I am single—well, practically!” Julian stammered, waving his hands frantically in the air, trying to shrink into his middle seat. “Chloe, baby, listen to me, it’s complicated—she’s just—she doesn’t understand—”
“Oh, I understand completely, Julian,” I interrupted, my voice dropping into a register so cold and quiet that it cut through his panic like a scalpel. I turned my head to look directly at Chloe, meeting her wide, panicked eyes with absolute calm. “He told you I was cold, distant, and that the divorce was already finalized in a courtroom downtown, didn't he? He told you our house was already on the market, and that he was just waiting for the right moment to introduce you to our ten-year-old daughter, Maya.”
Chloe’s face turned from pale to a brilliant, furious shade of crimson. She stared at Julian, her chest heaving under her designer sweater. “You lied to me? You lied about everything? You’re still living with her?!”
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“I’m not living with him anymore,” I corrected smoothly, unzipping my folio just a fraction more. “Starting this morning at precisely nine o’clock, Julian hasn't lived anywhere near my house. In fact, as of ten minutes ago, while we were taxiing down the runway at Logan, my divorce attorney filed an emergency ex-parte motion freezing all joint marital assets, all corporate discretionary funds, and the title deed to the Back Bay condo where you’ve been spending your Tuesday nights, Chloe.”
Julian let out a sound like a punctured tire. “You… you did what?”
