PART 3: The Toast to a Lie
Robert stood beside the candlelit table, holding two glasses of expensive champagne, looking every bit the successful, protective husband he had spent a quarter of a century portraying.
“To twenty-five years,” he said, smiling warmly as he handed me a glass. “And to forty more.”
I didn’t take the glass. Instead, I leaned against the doorframe, my voice dead calm. “Who is R.K., Robert?”
The smile froze on his face for a fraction of a second before he let out a casual, practiced chuckle. “R.K.? Probably a wrong number, sweetheart. Did my old work cell buzz?”
“He says the receivership goes public on Monday,” I said softly. “He says I have forty-eight hours to find out that you put our house up as collateral for your shell companies.”
The champagne glass slipped from his fingers, shattering across the hardwood floor and spilling across the rug. The color drained from his face until he looked twenty years older.
“Claire, listen to me—” he stammered, taking a step forward. “I was fixing it. I was going to turn it around before you ever had to worry!”
How did Claire handle the discovery? Continue reading Part 4 below for the emergency response.
