Chapter 10 - Smoke in the Hall
The fire was not inside my penthouse.
It started in the service corridor behind it.
A pile of cardboard boxes had been pushed beneath a maintenance panel and ignited.
Sprinklers activated within ninety seconds.
The flames never reached my unit.
But someone had tried to disable the alarm first.
Building security captured the person entering through the garage.
Baseball cap.
Maintenance jacket.
Face turned away.
He left before the fire began.
Police found the jacket in a stairwell trash bin.
Inside one pocket was a guest parking receipt from the Breckenridge chalet.
Grant denied everything.
Ryan denied everything.
Diane called it “another stunt Claire invented for attention.”
I stopped caring what they called reality.
The next morning, I filed for divorce.
Not separation.
Not counseling.
Divorce.
Maya submitted requests for emergency financial restraints and exclusive possession of the penthouse.
The judge reviewed the deed, the assault report, and the forged marital property acknowledgment.
Ryan’s claim to the penthouse was temporarily rejected.
His attorney objected.
The judge asked one question.
“Did your client sign the original deed?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Did he contribute to the purchase price?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Then we are not pretending ownership appears because he enjoyed the view.”
I almost smiled.
Outside the courthouse, reporters were waiting.
Somehow news of the hospitality fraud investigation had leaked.
Ryan saw the cameras and immediately became the man I had married.
Polished.
Regretful.
Soft-spoken.
He stopped near the courthouse steps.
“My wife is under enormous stress due to her pregnancy.”
I turned.
Maya whispered, “Keep walking.”
But then Ryan continued.
“I love Claire.”
“I hope our family can resolve this privately.”
Our family.
The same phrase they always used when privacy benefited them.
I walked back.
Ryan’s attorney grabbed his sleeve.
Too late.
I stopped six feet away.
One reporter raised a microphone.
“Mrs. Bennett, do you have a response?”
I looked directly at Ryan.
“Yes.”
Then I faced the cameras.
“My husband’s father assaulted me.”
“My husband physically restrained me while it happened.”
“The police have video.”
“I will not call criminal behavior a private family disagreement.”
Ryan’s smile disappeared.
I continued.
“And I will not accept responsibility for companies, loans, signatures, or investments created without my knowledge.”
That sentence hit harder.
Several reporters began shouting questions.
Ryan’s attorney turned pale.
Because now the financial investigation had a public line separating me from them.
I left.
Three hours later, Grant’s largest private investor contacted investigators.
His name was Malcolm Price.
He claimed Grant owed him 2.4 million dollars.
He also claimed Grant had promised repayment by January fifteenth.
Eleven days away.
Using profits from a stock trade.
May you like
A stock trade involving my company.
And according to Malcolm, Ryan had personally guaranteed they would have the confidential acquisition date by New Year’s Day.
