Chapter 4 - The Script Unravels
"Catriona, you don't know what you're talking about," Miles finally stammered, stepping toward the island with his hands held out in a placating gesture. "You're taking things completely out of context. Brenda is an administrative temp; she doesn't know the full scope of our internal restructuring."
"She’s been the senior benefits manager at Apex for eleven years, Miles," I replied, sliding the first printout across the quartz counter. It was the audit log of his portal activity, timestamped three days after I had returned home from the hospital with a fresh incision across my stomach. "You spent twenty minutes uploading an affidavit trying to declare Vanessa Thorne as your domestic partner while I was upstairs bleeding through surgical bandages."
Miles looked down at the paper. His jaw twitched, but instead of remorse, his eyes flashed with vicious, cornered anger. "She was in a crisis, Cat! Vanessa was going through an uninsured medical emergency, and the firm’s executive stipends hadn't cleared. I was trying to route her through our emergency benefits pool as a temporary bridge. It was purely professional!"
"Purely professional?" I pulled out a second sheet. "Is that why you've been transferring money out of our daughter's health savings fund into account 4109? Is that why you paid twelve hundred dollars for Vanessa's cosmetic veneer repairs while Louisa sat in a clinic without a valid insurance ID?"
Miles slammed his fist against the kitchen island, the wood rattling with a loud crack that made the baby monitor buzz. "Stop acting like you're an investigator in a courtroom! I make the money in this house! You've been sitting on your ass on paid leave for two months while I carry the entire financial weight of this family! If I want to help a colleague who works sixty hours a week for my department, I don't need your permission!"
"I took eight weeks of leave because a surgeon cut through seven layers of my abdominal tissue to pull your child out alive," I said, rising from the barstool so fast the sharp pain in my lower stomach flared like hot needles. I didn't care. I leaned across the counter until my face was inches from his. "And my salary covers sixty percent of our mortgage, Miles. Don't you dare rewrite history to justify your theft."
"It wasn't theft!" he hissed, his face red and veins bulging at his temples. "It was an advance! I was going to pay it back before the quarter ended! And Louisa isn't going to die because of a clerical delay. You’re blowing this completely out of proportion because you’re insecure!"
"Get out," I said.
He blinked, thrown off by my flat, emotionless tone. "What?"
"Take your keys, take your briefcase, and get out of my house."
Miles let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "Your house? My name is on the deed, Catriona. I pay the bills. If anyone is leaving, it’s not going to be me. And if you think you can file for divorce and take Louisa, you’re dead wrong. A judge will look at an unemployed mother on temporary medical leave and hand full custody to the breadwinner who provides corporate stability."
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"Test that theory," I whispered.
He stared at me for three long seconds, convinced he had intimidated me into submission. He sneered, grabbed his car keys off the tray, and walked out the door, letting it slam so hard the glass pane rattled in the frame. "I'll be at a hotel," he shouted through the door. "Call me when you've regained your sanity."
