Chapter 5 - The Airport Trap
There are moments when everything slows down.
The location marker moving across Lily’s tablet felt like that.
One tiny blue dot.
Crossing the city.
Carrying two men who might possess stolen corporate data, millions in diverted funds, forged documents, and enough information to damage hundreds of innocent employees.
Jason had always loved dramatic exits.
Apparently, he planned one final performance.
Rachel was on speaker within seconds.
“Do not go to the airport.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
That was technically true for approximately five seconds.
Then Claire called federal investigators.
They already had Jason’s name flagged after Lily’s interview and Meridian’s preliminary evidence submission.
But evidence needed process.
Warrants.
Probable cause.
Documentation.
Jason did not care about process.
He was twenty-eight minutes from the international terminal.
Lily sat beside me.
“Where would he go?”
I looked at her.
“You know him better recently.”
She winced.
Fair.
Then thought.
“Paris.”
“The apartment.”
She nodded.
“He kept talking about starting over there.”
Rachel’s voice came through the phone.
“We're notifying authorities.”
The location marker moved.
Then stopped.
Not at the airport.
At a private aviation terminal.
Of course.
Jason couldn't simply buy a commercial ticket.
Even while fleeing the wreckage of a fake fortune, he still needed the appearance of wealth.
Claire pulled private flight records.
A charter had been booked under Northbridge Advisory Partners.
Destination: Montreal.
Connection planned onward to Europe.
Departure: forty-five minutes.
Rachel swore.
“How did he pay?”
Claire checked.
Then stared.
“Corporate escrow funds.”
I laughed once.
“He's literally stealing more money to escape stealing money.”
Federal agents reached the private terminal eighteen minutes before scheduled departure.
We watched everything indirectly through updates.
Lily paced.
I sat.
Rachel stood by the window.
Then Claire received a call.
“They have Marcus.”
“And Jason?”
She listened.
Her face changed.
“What?”
“What happened?”
She covered the phone.
“Jason wasn't with him.”
My stomach dropped.
“What do you mean?”
“Marcus arrived alone.”
“Where is Jason?”
“No one knows.”
Lily looked at the tablet.
“The location!”
The blue dot remained at the terminal.
She stared at it.
Then understood.
“He gave Marcus his phone.”
Jason had planned it.
He knew Lily might track him.
He used Marcus as bait.
Rachel immediately asked,
“Where would he go?”
Lily began thinking.
I did too.
Then I remembered something.
The house.
Not our old home.
My lake house.
A private property two hours north.
Jason loved it.
He had repeatedly asked for it during divorce negotiations.
I refused.
“Lake Geneva.”
Rachel looked at me.
“What?”
“My lake property.”
Lily nodded quickly.
“He talked about it constantly.”
I called security.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
My stomach tightened.
There was only one caretaker at the property during weekdays.
An older man named Walter.
I called him.
Straight to voicemail.
Rachel saw my face.
“No.”
“I’m not going there.”
“Good.”
“We send police.”
“Yes.”
Authorities were contacted.
Then my phone rang.
Walter.
I answered immediately.
“Walter?”
His voice sounded confused.
“Ms. Bennett?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
I exhaled.
“Is Jason there?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Rachel and I locked eyes.
“When did he arrive?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“Is he alone?”
“I think so.”
“Walter, listen carefully. Leave the property.”
“Why?”
“Just leave.”
Another pause.
Then Walter said quietly,
“He asked about the old boathouse safe.”
My blood turned cold.
The safe.
My father installed it years earlier.
Inside were property documents, emergency cash, and—more importantly—backup storage drives from before Meridian moved everything to cloud systems.
Old.
But not useless.
Jason knew about them.
“Walter, leave now.”
“Okay.”
We notified authorities.
They told us not to approach.
For once, I listened.
Police reached the property ninety minutes later.
Jason was gone.
The safe was open.
Drives missing.
A car had been stolen from a neighboring property.
He had anticipated everything.
By midnight, Jason Carter was officially a fugitive in everything but name.
The next morning, authorities obtained arrest warrants tied to wire fraud, identity theft, and suspected embezzlement.
News exploded.
The story became national.
Billionaire Heiress’s Ex-Husband Wanted in Multimillion-Dollar Fraud Case.
I hated the headline.
Not because it was inaccurate.
Because it reduced eight years of marriage into entertainment.
Lily hated the attention more.
Paparazzi waited outside her building.
People online called her every imaginable name.
Some believed she helped Jason.
Others treated her pregnancy like a scandal accessory.
She stopped reading comments after one day.
I moved her into a private guest apartment owned by Meridian.
Not because we were friends.
Not yet.
Because she was a cooperating witness carrying a child through unimaginable stress.
The irony was not lost on either of us.
One evening she said,
“You should hate me.”
We sat across from each other in the apartment kitchen.
“I did.”
She looked down.
“Past tense?”
“Mostly.”
She almost smiled.
“I knew he was married.”
“Yes.”
“There’s no excuse.”
“No.”
“He told me your marriage was over.”
I looked at her.
“Was it?”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“He said you lived separate lives.”
“We were struggling.”
“He said you refused to have children.”
That hurt unexpectedly.
Jason knew why we had not had children.
Two years earlier, I had experienced a pregnancy loss at eleven weeks.
Afterward, I needed time.
Jason publicly acted supportive.
Privately, he became distant.
I never imagined he would later weaponize it.
I looked away.
Lily noticed.
“Oh God.”
“He told you that?”
Her eyes filled.
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded once.
That was all I could manage.
Then Lily said something I did not expect.
“He hated you.”
I looked back.
“What?”
“Not at first.”
She rubbed her hands together.
“He talked about you constantly.”
“Romantically?”
“No.”
She searched for the right word.
“Competitively.”
I almost laughed.
That sounded like Jason.
“He compared everything.”
Your contacts.
Your education.
Your house.
Your friends.
Your company.
He always said, “Sophia got that because of her family.”
Lily paused.
“Then he started saying he built everything.”
There it was.
The rewriting.
Jason had not merely lied to Lily.
He had rewritten our marriage until he became the protagonist.
My money became his accomplishment.
My contacts became his network.
My support became his brilliance.
And eventually, even he believed it.
Three days passed.
No Jason.
Marcus began cooperating.
That changed everything.
Apparently Jason had recruited him four years earlier.
At first, it was small.
Expense manipulations.
Vendor rebates.
Then larger transfers.
Marcus confessed that Jason promised him ten percent.
But the biggest revelation was the backup drives.
Marcus believed Jason wanted them because they contained old email archives.
One archive included negotiations from twelve years earlier involving a company called Halcyon Systems.
My old startup.
Claire found the backup.
A copy existed.
We restored it.
Inside were emails proving something I had never known.
Jason had applied for a job at Halcyon two years before we met.
Rejected.
Twice.
I stared at the emails.
He had known who I was before our first date.
Rachel whispered,
“That changes the entire story.”
I remembered meeting him at a charity dinner.
He told me later he had never heard of my company.
He pretended my wealth surprised him.
Had our relationship been planned?
I didn't want to believe that.
Then Claire found another email.
Jason to Marcus.
Three months before Jason met me.
If I can get close to SB, doors open.
My chest tightened.
Another:
Her father controls more than people realize.
And another:
Marriage would solve everything.
I pushed back from the screen.
Rachel touched my shoulder.
“Sophia.”
I stood.
“I need air.”
Outside, I walked three blocks without direction.
Eight years.
Eight years of memories.
Holidays.
Birthdays.
Arguments.
Apologies.
His hand holding mine at my father’s funeral.
His voice telling me he loved me.
Had all of it been calculated?
No.
I refused to believe human relationships were that simple.
Maybe he targeted me initially.
Maybe later feelings became real.
Maybe not.
But either way, the foundation had been rotten before I ever stepped onto it.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Sophia.”
Jason.
I stopped walking.
“Where are you?”
He laughed softly.
“Still trying to control everything.”
“You're wanted by federal authorities.”
“I know.”
“Turn yourself in.”
“No.”
“Jason.”
“You've seen the emails.”
My skin prickled.
“How do you know?”
“Because Marcus talks when he's scared.”
So Jason still had information.
“You targeted me.”
A pause.
“At first.”
The honesty hurt more than another lie.
“Why?”
“You had everything.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“I had nothing.”
“That isn't true.”
“You wouldn't understand.”
I closed my eyes.
“You could have built your own life.”
“I tried.”
“No. You tried to take mine.”
Silence.
Then his voice softened.
“I did love you.”
I hated that part of me still reacted.
“Maybe.”
“I did.”
“But not enough.”
Another silence.
Then he said,
“I need one thing.”
“No.”
“You don't even know what it is.”
“I don't care.”
“Five million.”
I almost laughed.
“For what?”
“You transfer five million to an account I give you, and I disappear.”
“You already stole eighteen.”
“Most of that is frozen.”
Good.
He continued.
“If you don't, I release Halcyon files.”
“Release them.”
“They'll hurt you.”
“No.”
I looked at traffic flowing past.
“They'll embarrass me.”
He said nothing.
“You still think those are the same thing.”
His tone hardened.
“You're making a mistake.”
“Turn yourself in.”
“I’m giving you one chance.”
“No.”
He hung up.
Ten minutes later, I received an email.
One attachment.
A photograph.
Jason.
Standing somewhere unfamiliar.
Behind him was a television displaying the current date.
In his hand—
one of the stolen backup drives.
Text beneath the photo:
Tomorrow, 9 a.m.
Five million.
Or everything goes public.
I forwarded it to Rachel.
Then I noticed something.
In the background of the photograph was a hotel room window.
Beyond it—
a distinctive red steel bridge.
I zoomed in.
My heartbeat accelerated.
I knew that bridge.
Rachel called.
May you like
“Sophia?”
“I know where he is.”
