Chapter 2 - The Envelope on the Tray Table
The vibration of my phone broke the heavy silence between Trinity and me. I pulled it out from my blazer pocket, keeping it hidden beneath the tray table. Another notification flashed across the screen.
URGENT: INTERNAL AUDIT ALERT.
Your corporate access has been revoked. Law enforcement has been notified regarding unauthorized fund transfers from the corporate restructuring account.
My breath caught in my throat. Corporate restructuring. That was the account I had been quietly siphoning from over the past eight months to fund my lavish lifestyle with Trinity—the high-end dinners, the weekend getaways to Cabo, the designer bags, and the down payment on Trinity’s luxury downtown condo. I had hidden the transactions behind layers of shell companies and fake consulting fees. No one was supposed to notice until I cleared out the remaining balance and filed for divorce next year.
Yet, here it was, unraveling at thirty thousand feet over the Atlantic Ocean.
Trinity noticed my pale, sweating face and snatched the phone from my hand before I could block the screen. Her eyes scanned the notification. The color drained completely from her face.
"Corporate restructuring?" Trinity whispered, her voice shaking violently. "Miles... what did you do? Are those federal alerts?"
"Give me the phone, Trinity," I muttered, lunging for it.
"Don't touch me!" she recoiled, pressing herself against the window. "You told me you were a senior executive with millions in personal stock options! You told me your divorce was final and your assets were liquid! What is happening right now?"
"Keep your voice down," I begged, glancing nervously up the aisle.
"No! I'm not keeping my voice down!" Trinity’s composure finally snapped, drawing the sharp attention of a nearby flight attendant—fortunately, not Dakota. "You lied to me about your marriage, you lied to me about your money, and now your company is freezing your accounts while your wife serves us divorce papers on an international flight!"
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
May you like
Divorce papers.
That was what was inside the sealed envelope. Dakota wasn't just exposing my infidelity; she was initiating the legal strike of a lifetime. And judging by the precision of the corporate audit alert hitting my phone at the exact same minute, her involvement went far beyond a heartbroken wife stumbling upon her husband's betrayal.
