Chapter 2 - The Freeze
The notification on Jack’s phone wasn't just an alert; it was an execution order.
From her vantage point above Terminal C, Megan watched the swift, devastating transformation of her husband. Within three seconds, Jack went from an untouchable, smiling alpha male to a trapped animal. His fingers danced across his glass screen with desperate, trembling speed, trying to open his banking apps, his investment portfolios, his private corporate slush funds.
One by one, error messages flashed across his display.
ACCOUNT FROZEN. SECURITY HOLD ACTIVE. CONTACT ADMINISTRATOR.
Beside him, Carol noticed the sudden change in his demeanor. She lowered her coffee cup, her brow furrowing with sudden irritation. “Jack, what is it? The boarding call for first class is about to start. Why are you standing there like a statue?”
Jack didn't answer. He couldn't. His throat had apparently closed up.
“Jack?” the blonde woman chimed in, resting a manicured hand on his forearm. Her voice, though muffled by distance, carried a sharp edge of anxiety. “Is something wrong with the tickets?”
“N-no,” Jack stammered, his voice cracking slightly. He looked around the terminal wildly, as if expecting FBI agents to drop from the ceiling at any second. “Just... a server glitch at the hospital. My payroll deposit... it’s locked.”
“A glitch?” Carol scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Call your administrator and fix it later. We have a flight to catch to Cabo, and I am not missing our private resort check-in because of a computer bug.”
Megan watched from above, a cold, humorless smile touching the corners of her lips. Enjoy Cabo, Carol, she thought. You’re about to find out what economy class tastes like when you have to pay for your own tickets.
Megan tapped her phone screen, keeping Gerald on the line.
“How deep are we into the corporate accounts, Gerald?” she asked quietly.
“We’ve locked his primary operating accounts, frozen the three shell companies he set up under his sister’s name, and initiated an immediate clawback on the residential mortgage for his mother’s suburban home,” Gerald reported crisply, the sound of paperwork rustling in the background. “In addition, our corporate counsel has just filed an emergency injunction against his medical practice’s partnership funds due to proven embezzlement of research grants.”
Megan blinked. “Research grants? I didn't know he was touching those.”
“He wasn't just touching them, Megan,” Gerald said grimly. “He was using them to fund his lifestyle and pay off his girlfriend’s apartment lease in Uptown Dallas. The girl’s name is Chloe Vance—no relation to us, thankfully. She’s a pharmaceutical sales rep who’s been feeding him high-end samples and cooking his expense reports.”
Chloe.
So that was her name. The blonde woman in the trench coat who had captured a married surgeon with a fake smile and a stack of free drug samples.
“Keep going, Gerald,” Megan instructed, her voice steady. “Don’t leave a single dollar intact. I want him legally, financially, and professionally stripped down to the bare studs.”
“Consider it done. What’s your next move?”
“I’m going home,” Megan said. “Or rather, my home.”
She turned away from the glass walkway, her heels clicking evenly against the polished terminal floor as she walked toward the exit elevators. Behind her, downstairs in Terminal C, panic had officially broken out.
Jack’s phone was ringing continuously now—likely his bank’s fraud department, his accountant, or the hospital board demanding to know why federal tax liens had just hit his personal social security number. He was shouting into the phone, his face bright red, while Carol and Chloe yelled at him over the boarding announcements.
Megan stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for the parking garage, and slid her phone back into her coat pocket.
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Ten years of marriage, erased in ten minutes.
And the real fun hadn't even started yet.
