Chapter 2 - THE HUSBAND WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Ethan had once laughed when I told him the valuation model I built at twenty-two had saved Ashbourne nearly ninety million pounds in three acquisitions.
“Your mom probably had people do the real work,” he said.
I had laughed with him.
That memory made me angrier now than the insult itself.
He hadn’t believed I was powerful.
But apparently, he had believed my work was useful enough to remember.
Our internal security team began reviewing access logs immediately.
No current breach.
No hacked servers.
No compromised email.
Which meant the leak had probably come from an old file.
Something Ethan had access to before I left London.
Rebecca found it first.
“Your personal archive.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“When you resigned three years ago, you exported a private copy of your deal templates.”
My stomach tightened.
I remembered.
A laptop.
My London files.
Research.
Negotiation notes.
Valuation models.
I had taken it to New York because I thought I might consult occasionally.
Then Lily was born.
The laptop went into a cabinet in our home office.
“Ethan had access.”
Rebecca nodded.
I called our New York attorney.
“Can we preserve the contents of my home office?”
“Yes.”
“Immediately.”
“Is there a concern about evidence destruction?”
“Yes.”
She stopped asking questions.
Forty minutes later, Ethan called.
I answered.
Not because I wanted to hear his voice.
Because I wanted information.
“Claire.”
He sounded furious.
“Where is Lily?”
“With me.”
“In London.”
“Yes.”
“You took her without permission.”
“I took our daughter to a safe place after you struck me in public.”
Silence.
Then,
“I didn’t strike you. I slapped you.”
I closed my eyes.
That distinction told me everything.
“You’re recording this?”
A pause.
“No.”
He was.
So was I.
My attorney had told me to.
“You hit me.”
“You provoked me.”
“Goodbye, Ethan.”
“Wait.”
I stopped.
“You went back to Ashbourne.”
“Yes.”
His breathing changed.
“You can’t work on NordTech.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Conflict of interest.”
“Whose?”
“You’re my wife.”
“And you advise Bennett.”
“That’s exactly my point.”
“No. Your point is apparently that my career conflicts with yours.”
“Claire, don’t make this personal.”
I laughed.
“You hit me over the woman leading the rival bid.”
Silence.
Then Ethan said,
“Sophia is not your rival.”
“She literally is.”
“You don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Then explain.”
He hesitated.
“NordTech is dangerous.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
“Just leave the deal.”
There it was.
Not concern.
A warning.
“Why?”
“Because if Ashbourne wins, it could trigger things you’re not prepared for.”
My pulse quickened.
“What things?”
He lowered his voice.
“Your father.”
I went still.
“My father is dead.”
“No.”
I stopped breathing.
My father, Jonathan Quinn, had died seven years earlier after a heart attack in Geneva.
I had attended the funeral.
Seen the coffin.
Sat beside my mother.
“What did you say?”
Ethan was silent.
I stood.
“Ethan.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Then say everything.”
“You need to ask your mother about Project Northstar.”
My stomach tightened.
“What is that?”
“Ask her.”
“You’re trying to manipulate me.”
“Claire, listen to me for once.”
Something cold moved through me.
“For once?”
“You have no idea what Ashbourne really does.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Then why did you marry me?”
He exhaled.
And that one second was enough.
Not because I loved you.
Not immediate.
He thought.
I felt it.
“Ethan.”
“Yes?”
“Did you know who I was before we met?”
Silence.
My entire body went cold.
I had always believed we met accidentally at a Columbia alumni dinner.
I had spilled coffee.
He had offered napkins.
He had asked for my number.
Now he said quietly,
“I knew your last name.”
My stomach dropped.
“How long before?”
“Claire—”
“How long?”
“Three months.”
I stopped breathing.
He had researched me before we ever met.
May you like
Then Ethan said something even worse.
“Sophia introduced me to your file.”
