Chapter 3 - The Airport Secret
I had met Richard Prescott seven years earlier.
He was sixty-eight then, silver-haired and immaculately dressed, with the unsettling ability to make a compliment sound like a warning.
Aaron had taken me to dinner at the Prescott family home.
Richard studied me across a table long enough to make most people uncomfortable.
I refused to look away.
Finally, he smiled.
“You don't seem impressed by us, Claire.”
“I didn't realize I was supposed to be.”
Aaron nearly choked on his wine.
Richard laughed.
For years afterward, I believed he respected me.
Now I wondered whether I had misunderstood him too.
“What does your father have to do with Jasmine?” I asked.
Aaron didn't answer immediately.
“Aaron?”
“I found her at the airport this morning.”
The image returned instantly: Jasmine in pale pink, leaning against Aaron as if her legs could no longer support her.
“She was leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She was terrified.”
“Of Richard?”
“I didn't know at first.”
“And now?”
“I know enough.”
“Which means?”
“Claire, please. Just come home.”
“No.”
“Then let me come to you.”
“No.”
“Stop saying no long enough to understand that this isn't about us.”
“That might be the first accurate thing you've said all day.”
“Damn it, Claire.”
Nathan touched my arm and shook his head.
Don't give Aaron anything.
I understood.
“Your father,” I said. “Explain.”
Aaron lowered his voice.
“Jasmine works with vendor compliance. Three weeks ago she noticed irregular invoices.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“What?”
“I said I know.”
“How?”
“Maybe you aren't the only person Jasmine trusts.”
“Did she contact you?”
I said nothing.
“Claire, answer me.”
“You don't get to interrogate me.”
“If she contacted you, you're involved now.”
“I was involved the moment Hale Meridian appeared in her records.”
The silence on the other end lasted three seconds.
Then Aaron whispered:
“How do you know that name?”
There it was.
The question my husband should have asked years ago.
I almost felt sorry for him.
“Hale Meridian is part of my family's investment structure.”
“What?”
“Goodbye, Aaron.”
“Claire, wait—”
I ended the call.
Nathan stared at me.
“You just told him.”
“He was going to learn.”
“Yes, but watching you do it was impressive.”
“I didn't do it for effect.”
“I know.”
We reached the parking garage.
“Are we still going to Jasmine?”
“Yes.”
Nathan sighed.
“I knew you were going to say that.”
The hotel was twelve minutes from the airport.
Jasmine opened the door only after Nathan identified himself through it.
When she finally let us inside, I almost didn't recognize the woman from the polished corporate events I had attended.
Her blonde hair was loose.
Her makeup had mostly disappeared.
Her hands shook.
She looked at Nathan.
“Who's he?”
“My attorney.”
“I said come alone.”
“And I ignored you.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Jasmine looked at me.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
“That covers a lot.”
Her eyes filled.
“There was never an affair.”
I studied her.
“Were you in love with him?”
She looked away.
That was answer enough.
“Did Aaron know?”
“No.”
“Did you ever tell him?”
“No.”
“Did he ever encourage you?”
She hesitated.
“Not intentionally.”
That answer hurt more than I expected.
Because it sounded true.
Aaron had always been careless with attention.
He could make people feel chosen without realizing what he was doing.
Perhaps he had done the same thing to Jasmine.
But even if he hadn't slept with her, he had repeatedly chosen her emergencies, her late-night calls and her needs over his wife.
That mattered.
“You said you found payments,” Nathan interrupted.
Jasmine nodded.
She retrieved a small laptop from the hotel safe.
“I was reviewing vendor renewals. One company kept receiving payments even though its service contracts had expired.”
“Name?”
“Northbridge Strategic Consulting.”
Nathan typed it into his phone.
“Who owns it?”
“That's the problem. Shell companies. Three layers.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-eight million over eighteen months.”
Even Nathan went silent.
“And Hale Meridian?”
“One of Northbridge's accounts received funds immediately after Prescott Global drew on a private credit facility associated with Hale Meridian.”
“That doesn't mean Hale Meridian participated,” I said.
“I know.”
“Show me.”
She opened a spreadsheet.
Rows of dates.
Transfers.
Authorization codes.
Nathan leaned closer.
“Who approved these?”
“Executive authorization PR-01.”
I knew enough about Prescott Global to understand.
“Richard?”
Jasmine nodded.
Nathan exhaled.
“Do you have originals?”
“Copies.”
“Metadata?”
“Yes.”
“Emails?”
“A few.”
“Where are they?”
She looked at me.
“In a safe-deposit box.”
“Why not bring them?”
“Because if someone followed me, I didn't want everything in one place.”
Smart.
Much smarter than Aaron probably realized.
“Why was Aaron at the airport?” I asked.
“I called him when I found my apartment disturbed. He told me not to go home and met me there.”
“And why were you holding onto him?”
Jasmine's face reddened.
“I thought someone was following me. I panicked.”
The image that had seemed so obvious suddenly became something else.
Aaron holding a frightened employee.
Not a lover.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I felt almost nothing.
Jasmine saw it.
“You believe me?”
“I believe this deserves investigation.”
“About Aaron and me—”
“Jasmine.”
She stopped.
“Whether you slept with my husband isn't the only reason I'm divorcing him.”
Her expression softened.
“I didn't know.”
“Most people didn't.”
Nathan straightened.
“We need to secure these files.”
A knock came at the door.
All three of us froze.
Another knock.
“Hotel security,” a male voice called.
Jasmine went pale.
“I didn't call security.”
Nathan motioned for us to remain silent.
The handle moved.
Locked.
Then the voice came again.
“Ms. Cole? We need to speak with you.”
Nathan quietly took out his phone.
I moved toward Jasmine.
“Is there another exit?”
She pointed toward the connecting-room door.
Locked from our side.
Nathan whispered, “I'm calling the front desk.”
Before he could finish dialing, something slid beneath the hotel door.
A photograph.
Jasmine stared at it.
I bent and picked it up.
It showed me leaving Nathan's office less than an hour earlier.
Taken from across the street.
On the back, four words had been written in black ink.
THIS ISN'T YOUR FIGHT.
My heartbeat finally accelerated.
Nathan looked at me.
“Now we call the police.”
But Jasmine was staring at something else.
A second photograph had appeared beneath the door.
This one showed Aaron.
Standing outside Prescott Global.
Beside him was Richard Prescott.
And Richard was handing his son a folder.
The timestamp was from two days earlier.
Jasmine whispered:
“What if Aaron already knows?”
I looked at the photograph.
For the first time since our marriage ended, I desperately wanted my husband to tell me the truth.
Because if he had known what Richard was doing and protected him anyway, then the man I had married wasn't merely careless.
May you like
He was dangerous.
And I was about to find out which version of Aaron Prescott was real.
