Chapter 3 - THE COMPANY THAT DIDN’T EXIST
Northstar Aviation Consulting had no office.
No website.
No employees we could verify.
Yet Pierce Aero had paid it more than two million dollars for “route optimization,” “international market analysis,” and “fleet development strategy.”
Those phrases sounded expensive enough to discourage questions.
My father used to call invoices like that fog bills.
If nobody understands what was purchased, somebody probably wants it that way.
Camden tried to leave the hangar.
Malcolm stopped him.
“Your company laptop.”
Camden laughed.
“No.”
“Corporate property.”
“My attorney can arrange—”
“Camden.”
I spoke quietly.
He looked at me.
“Do not make this worse.”
For one second, I saw the man I married.
Not the polished executive.
Not Lila’s powerful lover.
The man who once burned toast in our first apartment and laughed until he cried because the smoke alarm went off.
Then he disappeared again.
Camden pulled the laptop from his leather bag and handed it to Malcolm.
“You’re going to regret humiliating me.”
I answered:
“You keep confusing documentation with humiliation.”
Lila had gone silent.
She removed my scarf.
That surprised me.
She held it out.
“This is yours.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know.”
Camden turned toward her.
“Don’t.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
He didn’t answer.
I took the scarf.
Not because it mattered financially.
Because my mother had been with me when I chose it in Paris before Camden later bought it as my anniversary gift.
Some things have value because of memory, not price.
Lila looked suddenly young.
Not innocent.
Just less certain.
Then she asked:
“Did Camden really not own the jet?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“The company?”
“No.”
“The Greenwich house?”
“No.”
Camden snapped.
“Enough.”
But she kept staring at me.
“The apartment on Park Avenue?”
My pulse changed.
“What apartment?”
Silence.
Lila looked at Camden.
His face warned her.
She ignored it.
“The one on East Seventy-Second.”
I did not move.
“We don’t own an apartment there.”
Her face drained.
“He said…”
“What?”
“He said it was one of your investment properties.”
Nora was already writing down the address.
Camden swore.
Then I understood.
Northstar may not have been only invoices.
It may have been assets.
I turned toward Malcolm.
“Pull real estate records.”
He nodded.
Camden stepped forward.
“This is private.”
“Not if company money paid for it.”
“You have no proof.”
“No.”
I looked directly at him.
“Not yet.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You’re enjoying this.”
That hurt.
Because part of me was.
Not his humiliation.
The clarity.
For months, I had been living inside suspicion.
Now facts were replacing it.
I said:
“I would have preferred a faithful husband and clean books.”
That stopped him.
Lila looked away.
Malcolm’s phone buzzed.
He checked the screen.
Then looked at me.
“We have the Northstar registration.”
Camden went completely still.
“Owner?” I asked.
Malcolm answered.
“Delaware holding entity. But the formation attorney is Richard Pierce.”
Camden’s older brother.
My stomach tightened.
Richard sat on our advisory board.
He attended our wedding.
He toasted Camden as the man who “finally found a woman smart enough to keep him honest.”
Apparently, the joke had been on me.
Then Malcolm said:
“There’s another authorized signatory.”
“Who?”
He handed me the screen.
LILA MONROE.
She stared at her own name.
“What?”
Camden closed his eyes.
May you like
Lila looked at him.
“Why am I listed on your company?”
