171 I cried in my husband’s arms at O’Hare Airport like my whole world was falling apart. “I’ll call you the second I land,” Mark whispered, kissing my forehead. What he didn’t know was that I had already seen him with his mistress, already uncovered the lies, and already planned my next move. By the time his plane took off, his perfect escape was already over.

High above the Atlantic Ocean, the cabin of Flight LX 9 was quiet and bathed in soft blue ambient light. In the exclusive first-class section, Mark Bennett stretched his legs out, enjoying the legroom of his fully reclining seat. He turned to his left, where Vanessa Cole was admiring her reflection in the dark cabin window, the diamond bracelet on her wrist catching the light of her personal reading lamp.

"To new beginnings," Mark said, raising his glass of vintage Dom Pérignon.

Vanessa clinked her glass against his, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I still can't believe we did it, Mark. We’re finally free. No more hiding in boutique hotels, no more lying about business trips."

"I told you I would handle it," Mark said, his voice dripping with the arrogant confidence that had made him millions in Chicago real estate. "Claire didn't suspect a thing. When I left her at the terminal, she was practically weeping into my coat. She’s too fragile for this world, Vanessa. She’s going to spend the next three weeks waiting by the phone like a lost puppy."

Vanessa laughed, a light, melodic sound that had once charmed Mark, but now sounded incredibly hollow. "And by the time she realizes you're not coming back?"

"By then, the divorce papers will be served from a Swiss law firm. The joint accounts are already empty. The real estate assets are tied up in corporate shells that she has no legal claim to. She’ll get the house in Lake Forest, but she won't be able to afford the property taxes on it. She’ll have to sell it and move into a small condo. It's more than she deserves, honestly."

Mark took a long sip of his champagne, feeling like the king of the world. He decided to check on his financial kingdom. He pulled out his iPad, connected to the aircraft’s high-speed satellite Wi-Fi, and opened his private banking portal.

The screen loaded slowly.

Mark typed in his secure password. Instead of his multi-million dollar balance, a red box appeared on the screen.

Error Code 403: Account Suspended. Please contact your financial institution.

Mark frowned. "That's strange."

"What is?" Vanessa asked, not looking up from her fashion magazine.

"The offshore portal is giving me a temporary error," Mark muttered. "Probably just a satellite glitch."

He refreshed the page. The same red box appeared.

A cold prickle of unease washed over his neck. He quickly opened his corporate banking app for Bennett Development Group. This was the account containing the operating capital, the funds he had planned to wire to Zurich the moment he landed.

Access Denied. Credentials Invalid.

"What the hell?" Mark whispered, his fingers flying across the screen. He tried his personal checking account.

Account Restricted.

He tried his primary credit card, an exclusive black card with a multi-million dollar limit, to purchase an upgraded Wi-Fi package.

Transaction Declined.

"Mark, what's wrong?" Vanessa asked, finally noticing the tense set of his shoulders. "Your face is completely gray."

"Nothing," Mark lied, his voice tight. "Just... some network issues. I'm going to call the bank using the satellite phone."

He stood up, his heart beginning to beat a frantic, uneven rhythm against his ribs. He walked to the galley at the front of the cabin and pulled out his cell phone, switching on the international roaming feature. He dialed his personal banker at Chase Private Client.

The call connected.

"Chase Private Client, this is Robert. How can I help you?"

"Robert, it's Mark Bennett," Mark said, keeping his voice low so the other first-class passengers wouldn't hear. "I'm currently mid-flight to Zurich, and I'm experiencing some issues accessing my online portals. My credit card was just declined."

There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line.

"Mr. Bennett," Robert said, his voice stripped of its usual warm, sycophantic tone. "I am no longer authorized to discuss your accounts with you."

"What do you mean you're not authorized? I have twelve million dollars in your branch!"

"Mr. Bennett, your accounts have been placed under a federal administrative freeze pursuant to a temporary restraining order issued by the Cook County Court. All inquiries must be directed to the receiver appointed by the court, or to the Illinois Attorney General’s financial crimes division."

Mark’s hand began to shake. The cabin of the plane suddenly felt incredibly hot, the air thin and suffocating.

"What freeze? On whose authority?" Mark demanded, his voice cracking.

"The petition was filed by your wife, Claire Bennett," Robert said calmly. "As a co-signatory and fifty-percent shareholder of Bennett Development Group, she has successfully argued that you were attempting to dissipate marital assets unlawfully. I'm sorry, Mr. Bennett, but I must terminate this call."

The line went dead.

Mark stood in the cramped galley, the phone slipping from his damp palm. The realization hit him like a physical blow to the stomach.

Claire.