Chapter 3

I opened the folder and held up a stack of bank transfer receipts.

"This is a loan I'd like you to repay, Nicole," I announced, my voice clear and steady. The whole party was silent, watching us.

"For our entire marriage, my husband Matthew has been giving his entire paycheck to you. He told me you were a struggling single mother on the verge of being homeless."

I paused, letting that sink in.

"So I paid for everything. This apartment, the utilities, the car, the food. All of it. On my single, contract nurse salary. The money Matthew gave you was a loan from our shared marital assets. It totals twenty-five thousand, four hundred and fifty dollars."

A collective gasp went through the crowd. People started whispering, looking from me to a pale-faced Nicole, to a furious Matthew.

"I... I don't have any money," Nicole stammered, her victim act crumbling. "I'm broke, I told you!"

"Is that right?" I asked, my voice dangerously soft. "Because I also know that you received a one-hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance payout after your ex-husband's tragic death in that car accident two years ago. A payout you never mentioned to his grieving parents, who are actually struggling."

Nicole's face went from pale to ghostly white.

Matthew lunged forward. He snatched the IOUs from my hand, his face contorted with rage.

"This is bullshit!" he roared, ripping the signed notes into tiny pieces and throwing them to the ground like confetti. "I wasn't giving her money! I was hiding it from you! From your ridiculous spending habits!"

The accusation was so absurd it was almost funny. I hadn't bought a new pair of shoes in a year.

"Ripping up the IOUs doesn't make the bank transfers disappear, Matthew," I said calmly. "And it doesn't change the fact that you, a security supervisor, have been financially supporting another woman while your own wife paid for your life."

I turned my back on him and his shredded paper.

"Don't worry," I said to the crowd. "I'm not going to rely on a backyard barbecue for justice."

I walked away, leaving them in the stunned, gossiping silence. My next stop was the tech plant.

I went straight to the top.

I sat in the plush guest chair in the Plant Manager's office, with Mr. Lester himself and Ms. Fuller, the HR Director, looking at me with concerned expressions. I made sure my eyes were red-rimmed and my voice trembled just enough.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," I began, playing the part of the devoted, wronged wife. "My husband, Matthew Scott... I love him very much. But I'm about to leave on a humanitarian mission, an aid program that I hope will bring honor to me, and by extension, to this company where my husband works so hard."

I laid it on thick, painting a picture of my noble sacrifice.

Then, I dropped the bomb.

"But I've just discovered... he's been giving his entire salary to another woman. A colleague of mine, Nicole Chavez. He lied to me about her circumstances. He even sabotaged my career to help her. Now, I'm facing this mission with almost no funds, and he's refusing to support me."

Ms. Fuller's face hardened. Mr. Lester leaned forward, his expression grim. The integrity of a security supervisor was paramount. The PR nightmare of one of their employees undermining his wife's noble mission was even worse.

"This is unacceptable," Mr. Lester said, his voice low and angry.

"Ms. Johns... Scott," Ms. Fuller corrected herself, "You have our word. This will be handled. We will ensure that debt is repaid. Furthermore, we will garnish Mr. Scott's wages. Half of his monthly salary will be directly deposited into your account as support for the duration of your mission."

I cried, this time with real relief.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you so much."

I had won.