Instead of breaking down, I went to work. As a master of data, hunting anomalies was my specialty. By 3 AM, I had bypassed Nicholas’s supposedly “secure” private laptop. I found the offshore accounts, the wire transfers, and the receipt for a $40,000 diamond ring—purchased entirely with *my* corporate bonus. He wasn’t just having an affair; he was liquidating our assets to fund his escape.
So, I made a few calls.
The next evening, I walked into Gibson’s Steakhouse wearing a blood-red blazer over a white silk slip dress. I didn’t barge in. I glided.
Through the archway of the main dining room, I spotted them. Nicholas, looking painfully cliché in his navy suit, was leaning across a pristine white tablecloth, gazing into the eyes of a blonde woman. He pulled out a black velvet box and opened it.
I stepped up to the table just as he prepared to pop the question.
“Hello,” I said, my voice a lethal, icy calm. “Meeting with your New York partner is a lot more romantic than I imagined, isn’t it?”
Nicholas’s head snapped up. The color instantly drained from his face. He violently snapped the ring box shut, fumbling to his feet in a pathetic attempt to physically block my view. “Clara? How did you… what are you doing here?”
His blonde girlfriend turned around, blinking in utter confusion.
In the background, a man in a black suit—my attorney—turned and walked away, having just served the restaurant management with a court-ordered asset freeze. Nicholas’s credit cards were officially dead.
“I’m just here to deliver an early wedding gift,” I smiled, tossing a thick legal folder onto his table. “I tracked the diverted funds. Every account you secretly planned to escape with has been frozen.”
I casually plucked the velvet box from his trembling, sweaty fingers. “And since you bought this with stolen marital funds, it’s mine.”
I looked at the blonde, then back to my soon-to-be ex-husband’s terrified eyes.
“Congratulations on your freedom, Nicholas. And your bankruptcy.”