Chapter 5 - The Subpoena on Meeting Street
By Friday morning, the legal earthquake had officially struck.
I was sitting in Maya’s kitchen, drinking black coffee and reviewing a structural design layout for a new client’s boutique hotel, when my phone rang. It was an unknown Manhattan number.
I swiped to answer.
"Clara?"
Nathan’s voice sounded ragged, exhausted, and laced with a frantic, unhinged edge that I had never heard in the five years of our marriage. He sounded like a man standing on the edge of a crumbling cliff.
"Where are you?" he demanded before I could speak. "Why won't you answer my calls? Do you have any idea what happened at the office this morning?"
"I’m assuming Edward Blackwood or Julian Vance paid your corporate headquarters a visit," I said smoothly, taking a slow sip of my coffee.
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other line. "You... you sent lawyers? Clara, are you out of your mind? You froze the operational accounts! The payroll manager called me twenty minutes ago crying because the direct deposits for forty employees didn't clear!"
"Then I suggest you explain to your employees why their CEO decided to spend eight months funding an apartment in downtown Charleston for his mistress instead of managing his cash flow," I replied, my voice chillingly level.
"That was personal! That has nothing to do with the company!" Nathan roared, his voice cracking with panic. "You’re trying to destroy everything I’ve built!"
"No, Nathan," I corrected him, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "I’m taking back what my father built for you. There is a very big difference."
"Clara, please," his tone shifted instantly, sliding into that pathetic, wheedling register he used when he was cornered. "Let’s be reasonable. Let’s sit down with our respective attorneys and hammer out a quiet settlement. We don't need to air our dirty laundry in open court. Think of the company's reputation—think of what our peers will say."
"I don't give a damn about what our peers say, Nathan," I said. "And as for the company's reputation? You should have thought about that before you let Victoria Lane wear your wedding ring to brunch in downtown Savannah while I was sitting at home organizing your tax documents."
A heavy silence dropped over the line.
"You knew about Savannah," he whispered.
"I know a lot of things now, Nathan. And by Monday morning, a judge in the Dorchester County Circuit Court is going to know them too."
"Clara, wait—"
I hung up.
May you like
I didn't block his number—I wanted him to keep calling, keep panicking, and keep realizing that the safety net he thought he had woven out of lies and corporate smoke had just been pulled out from under him.
I set the phone down on the counter and looked out the window at the bright Charleston sun. For the first time in a year, the air in my lungs felt clean.
