“Daniel,” he managed.
Daniel ignored Allison entirely and sat beside me.
The tension became suffocating.
“You already knew?” Allison whispered to Jason.
He didn’t answer.
Because yes.
He had known.
Not at first. But two years into our marriage, Jason attended a corporate gala and saw me embraced by Daniel in front of half the financial elite in Manhattan.
I’d explained everything afterward.
And Jason had reacted with awe.
Then fascination.
Then obsession.
Suddenly he wanted faster expansion. Bigger risks. Larger loans. More leverage.
He began speaking the language of wealth like a starving man describing food.
I warned him repeatedly.
Don’t build a lifestyle dependent on appearances.
Don’t gamble future stability for temporary prestige.
Don’t confuse access with ownership.
But Jason loved status more than wisdom.
And eventually, he convinced himself he no longer needed me.
After all, he thought he was about to become powerful on his own.
Daniel folded his hands. “Catherine informed me she intends to proceed with the divorce.”
Jason forced composure back into his expression. “That’s a personal matter.”
“Ordinarily, yes,” Daniel replied. “However, when the CEO of a company undergoing financial review abandons his wife for her closest friend while simultaneously hiding liabilities from investors… it becomes professionally relevant.”
Allison looked alarmed. “Liabilities?”
I finally saw it.
She truly knew nothing.
Jason had lied to her too.
Daniel withdrew a thin folder from his briefcase and placed it on the table.
Jason stared at it like it contained a bomb.
“In the last eighteen months,” Daniel said evenly, “Beaumont Technologies has accumulated debts exceeding thirty-seven million dollars.”
Allison’s head whipped toward Jason.
“What?”
Jason snapped, “It’s temporary leverage.”
Daniel continued as though uninterrupted. “You secured inflated valuations using projected contracts that were never finalized.”
“That’s standard negotiation.”
“No,” Daniel said quietly. “Fraud is fraud.”
The word hit like a gunshot.
Allison paled.
“You said the company was thriving,” she whispered.
“It was supposed to!”
For the first time, Jason’s polished exterior cracked completely.
He turned toward me desperately.
“Cat, listen to me. I can fix this.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
Not once had he apologized for betraying me.
Not once had he expressed remorse.
Only fear over losing money.
Losing status.
Losing access.
I suddenly saw him with horrifying clarity: a man hollowed out by ambition until nothing human remained.
Daniel slid another document toward me.
“These are the revised settlement terms.”
Jason lunged forward. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m very serious,” Daniel replied.
I opened the folder calmly.
The original settlement Jason proposed had been insulting.
He intended to keep the penthouse, retain majority liquid assets, and offer me a fraction of what I had contributed to our shared ventures—assuming I’d sign quickly out of emotional devastation.
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