Chapter 3 - THE COLD DESCENT
The wheels hit the tarmac with a jarring thud.
For Ryan,
it was the sound of a gavel falling.
I waited for the "fasten seatbelt" sign to turn off,
my movements deliberate and calm.
I gathered my carry-on,
ensuring my laptop and documents were secure.
I was the Operations Director of a construction firm;
I knew how to handle a collapse.
I walked off the plane,
breathing in the thin,
mountain air of Denver.
Behind me,
I could hear Ryan’s heavy footsteps chasing me through the jet bridge.
“Claire!
Stop!”
he bellowed,
ignoring the stares of the other passengers.
Chloe trailed behind him,
looking like a frightened child lost in an oversized coat.
I stopped near a large glass window overlooking the runways.
I turned to face him,
crossing my arms.
“We have nothing to discuss,
Ryan.”
“I want a divorce,”
he panted,
his eyes wild.
“You can't just call my boss and get me fired!”
“Actually,
I can,”
I replied.
“And I did.”
“That job was the only thing keeping our lifestyle afloat.”
“No,”
I corrected him.
“My salary was keeping our lifestyle afloat.”
“Your salary was being spent on hotel rooms in Portland and silk scarves for your assistant.”
Chloe tried to speak,
her voice trembling.
“Ms. Morgan,
I… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
I looked at her,
not with anger,
but with a cold,
clinical pity.
“You knew he was married.”
“You knew you were flying on company money.”
“You didn’t mean for it to be caught.”
“There is a massive difference.”
Ryan stepped closer,
his face turning a deep,
unhealthy red.
“Where are you going?”
he demanded.
“We’re supposed to be on a trip!”
“I am on a business trip,”
I said.
“You are currently unemployed and stranded in an airport.”
“I’ve already called the bank.”
“Our joint credit cards are frozen.”
“The apartment locks in Boston are being changed as we speak.”
“My sister is already there with a locksmith.”
Ryan’s jaw dropped.
“You can't do that!
That’s my home!”
“It’s a rental under my name,
Ryan.”
“Check the lease.”
“You were just a guest who overstayed his welcome.”
I pulled a small,
sealed envelope from my bag.
I had prepared it weeks ago,
just in case my suspicions were ever confirmed.
I handed it to him.
“What is this?”
he asked,
his fingers shaking as he took it.
“The name of my lawyer.”
“And a list of the assets I’ve already moved to my private account.”
“Including the Vail timeshare you loved so much.”
“Don’t bother calling.”
“I’ve blocked your number.”
I turned and walked toward the exit,
leaving them standing in the middle of the terminal.
A group of travelers moved around them,
eyes lingering on the man who looked like he had just lost his soul.
I found my car service waiting at the curb.
As the driver pulled away,
I looked back at the airport.
The sky was a brilliant,
unforgiving blue.
May you like
The architect of my own life was finally back on the job.
And the first thing I had demolished was the man who thought I was too blind to see.
