Chapter 8
Audrey walked through the front door of the Vaughn mansion the next morning, Curtis right behind her. She had spent the night at the apartment, staring at the ceiling, but Curtis looked as put together as he had the night before, his jaw set in a hard line.
The living room was quiet. Too quiet.
Devonte was standing by the fireplace, a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked up as they entered, his eyes immediately zeroing in on Curtis's worn jacket and scuffed boots.
"Well, well," Devonte said, a smirk spreading across his face. "You actually did it. You found someone desperate enough."
"Audrey, wait in the hall," Curtis said, his voice low.
"No," Audrey said, stepping forward. "I want him to see."
Devonte set his coffee down and walked toward them, circling Curtis like a shark. "A handyman? I can smell the working class from here."
Curtis didn't react. He just stood there, his hands loose at his sides, his eyes tracking Devonte's movement with a predatory stillness.
"I told you, Audrey," Devonte continued, his tone mocking. "You have no money. You have no assets. You're signing up for a life of food stamps and section eight housing."
He picked up a remote from the coffee table and pointed it at the TV on the wall. A spreadsheet appeared on the screen. "Look familiar? It's our entire portfolio. Or rather, what used to be our portfolio. I liquidated everything last night. The brokerage accounts, the mutual funds, the savings. It's all sitting in a nice, safe place far away from your grubby little hands."
Audrey stared at the screen. The numbers were all zero. The realization hit her like a physical blow. He hadn't just hidden the money; he had destroyed their financial life together.
"And the best part?" Devonte laughed. "Those offshore companies I set up? They have loans. Big loans. And guess whose name is on the personal guarantee? Yours, my dear. If those companies default, the creditors come after you. You'll be paying off my debt for the rest of your life."
Audrey felt the room spin. Debt. He was going to bury her in debt. She looked at Curtis, panic rising in her chest. This wasn't just about walking away anymore. This was about survival.
Curtis stepped forward, placing himself between Audrey and Devonte. "Are you done?"
Devonte raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I asked if you were done," Curtis repeated, his voice dropping an octave. The quiet authority in his tone made the hair on the back of Audrey's neck stand up.
Devonte scoffed. "This doesn't concern you, blue collar. Go back to your wrench."
Curtis didn't move. He just stared at Devonte, his eyes cold and unblinking. For a second, the smirk faltered on Devonte's face. He took a step back, suddenly looking very small under Curtis's gaze.
Audrey took a deep breath. She stepped out from behind Curtis, her spine straightening. "I don't care about the debt," she said, her voice clear. "I don't care about the money. I want a divorce. And you are going to give it to me."
Devonte recovered his composure, sneering at her. "You'll be bankrupt within a year."
"Maybe," Audrey said. "But I'll be free of you."
She turned and walked toward the door. Curtis followed, pausing just long enough to look back at Devonte. The look was brief, but it was heavy with a promise of retribution that Devonte couldn't quite understand.
As they stepped outside into the morning sun, Curtis pressed a piece of paper into Audrey's hand. "Ten A.M. tomorrow. My lawyer's office. Don't be late."
Audrey watched him drive away in his beat-up pickup truck, her heart hammering in her chest. She was stepping off a cliff, and the only thing holding her up was a stranger with rough hands and eyes that saw right through her.
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