Chapter 11 - EASIER
The sentence stayed with me for days.
You were easier to live with before you started asking questions.
That was Preston’s version of love.
Ease.
Agreement.
Silence.
I filed for divorce the following Monday.
When he received the papers, he called me.
“You’re really doing this?”
“Yes.”
“After seventeen years?”
“Because of seventeen years.”
He was quiet.
Then he said, “Your parents finally won.”
I nearly laughed.
“There is no competition, Preston.”
“There always was.”
“No. That was only in your head.”
“You chose them.”
“I chose me.”
He hung up.
At Hail Industrial, the investigation moved faster.
Northline invoices were matched against nonexistent projects.
Mason provided emails.
Laura provided meeting notes.
Finance produced records showing Preston repeatedly pushed invoices through despite warnings.
Then Raymond called.
“We’re terminating him Friday.”
I sat silently.
“I thought you should know before it becomes public inside the company.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
“The board has authorized referral of the financial findings to outside counsel and the appropriate authorities.”
My stomach tightened.
“Is Mason included?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Raymond paused.
“You know I love my nephew.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t make what he did acceptable.”
For the first time, I understood something Preston never had.
Love and accountability could exist in the same room.
Friday afternoon, Preston entered Hail Industrial expecting another internal meeting.
Security walked him out forty minutes later.
He called me from the parking lot.
“You happy?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not happy.”
“You got everything you wanted.”
“I wanted a husband I could trust.”
He breathed heavily.
“You turned my family against me.”
“Your uncle fired you because of your work.”
“You gave them ammunition.”
“You gave them evidence.”
Silence.
Then he said, “You think you’re safe because you ran to a lawyer?”
I stood.
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll find out.”
He hung up.
I called Rachel immediately.
Within an hour, we learned what Preston had done.
The day before his termination, he had withdrawn almost the entire available balance from our joint checking account.
$43,700.
I stared at the screen.
Rachel remained calm.
“We document it.”
“He took everything.”
“He moved marital funds during an active separation. We address it through the proper process.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I looked at the empty account.
Then another notification appeared.
A charge.
$9,800.
On our joint credit card.
Luxury hotel.
Chicago.
Rachel leaned toward the screen.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“The charge is from this morning.”
I stared at it.
Preston had lost his job.
His marriage was collapsing.
Company lawyers were reviewing his conduct.
And he had just spent nearly ten thousand dollars.
On something.
Or someone.
Then my phone buzzed.
A photo arrived from an unknown number.
Preston sat in a hotel bar.
May you like
Across from him was a woman I recognized instantly.
Laura Kendall.
