Chapter 3 - The Black Jewelry Case
I did not confront Julian that night.
That surprised everyone.
Especially Julian.
He followed me toward the private elevator after security preserved footage.
“Audrey.”
I kept walking.
“Stop.”
“No.”
He caught up.
“Those earrings are not what you think.”
I pressed elevator button.
“That sentence should embarrass you.”
“They are similar.”
“No.”
“How would you know from across room?”
I turned.
“Because my mother’s jeweler repaired the left hinge after I dropped one at twenty three.”
His face changed.
Then he recovered.
“Maybe Camilla bought same pair.”
“They were custom reset from my grandmother’s stones.”
Silence.
The elevator opened.
He stepped in with me.
I stepped out.
He stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking next one.”
I entered adjacent elevator with Elena and Malcolm.
Doors closed on him.
Elena exhaled.
“Personal counsel?”
“Already retained.”
Malcolm looked.
“You knew?”
“About affair?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Four months.”
He looked horrified.
“You invested anyway?”
I understood question.
“Northstar’s investment decision was made by committee.”
Then:
“I recused from voting on final pricing and governance terms because of Julian.”
Malcolm nodded slowly.
That had been Elena’s requirement too.
Northstar had six investment committee members.
I controlled ultimate capital but did not need unilateral decisions.
We had independent valuation.
Aurelia deserved more than my marriage.
Then Malcolm said:
“I owe you an apology.”
“For?”
“I promoted Julian too quickly.”
I looked.
“Maybe.”
Then:
“You also let him believe presidency was likely.”
Malcolm frowned.
“I told him board would consider him.”
“He heard guarantee.”
“That is not my fault.”
“No.”
Then:
“But leaders hear what people are becoming, not only what they say.”
He absorbed.
Good.
At home I did not go to our penthouse.
I went to hotel suite Northstar had held for transaction week.
Julian called seventeen times.
I answered eighteenth.
“What?”
“You locked me out.”
“I did not.”
“You changed penthouse code.”
“No.”
Our housekeeper had informed me Julian came home, so code worked.
He was lying.
Maybe testing.
“Then why is security here?”
“Because building security was instructed to preserve hallway footage and prevent removal of items from my private jewelry safe until counsel documents.”
“Audrey.”
“My earrings were removed.”
“You are treating me like criminal.”
“I am treating my property like evidence.”
Then:
“Did you take them?”
Silence.
“Audrey, can we not do this over phone?”
“Did you?”
“They were in drawer.”
That was answer.
“Did you take them?”
“I borrowed them.”
I closed eyes.
“You borrowed my dead mother’s earrings to give your mistress?”
“She isn’t my mistress.”
“Then what is she?”
Silence.
“We’re close.”
I laughed.
Then stopped.
“Did you sleep with her?”
He said nothing.
“Julian.”
“Yes.”
There.
Not first proof.
But admission.
Then:
“How long?”
“Three months.”
I knew at least five from hotel receipts and messages? Not yet official. I had suspected four.
“Did you take earrings?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She had nothing that matched dress.”
I almost admired stupidity.
“You could buy earrings.”
“They were sitting there.”
Mine.
Therefore available.
Same entitlement pattern.
Then he shifted.
“What is Northstar?”
I laughed.
“You have internet.”
“It doesn’t list you.”
“We are private.”
“You told me your mother left you a family office.”
“She did.”
“You said it was modest.”
“No.”
Silence.
“I never said that.”
He struggled through memory.
At our second date he asked whether I worked.
I said I managed investments from family office and was building a holding company.
He said:
“So you’re basically retired at thirty.”
I corrected:
“No.”
He laughed.
Then changed subject to his strategy job.
For years he converted my work into hobby because it made sense to him.
Now:
“How much are you worth?”
I felt something in me die completely.
Not:
Why didn’t I know you.
Not:
Are you hurt.
How much.
“That is not relevant.”
“I’m your husband.”
“We have a prenup.”
“That doesn’t answer.”
“No.”
Then:
“Did you buy Aurelia because of me?”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe coincidence?”
“Aurelia’s lender approached Northstar fourteen weeks ago.”
Before I knew full affair.
“Your company fit our distressed growth strategy.”
Then:
“During diligence, we found payment anomalies.”
He went quiet.
“What anomalies?”
“Your attorney can request appropriate investigation information.”
“Audrey.”
“I am not your corporate counsel.”
Then:
“You are my wife.”
“Not for much longer.”
Silence.
He whispered:
“You’re divorcing me?”
“I am meeting my lawyer tomorrow.”
He began speaking fast.
“Because I made one mistake?”
“No.”
“One affair.”
“No.”
“The shove?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I looked at black jewelry case security had photographed.
“It is everything you just called one.”
One affair.
One shove.
One borrowed heirloom.
One set of payments.
One wife you never asked about.
One company you thought belonged to you.
People become dangerous when every choice is isolated from pattern.
Then before hanging up, Julian said:
“Whatever Nathan thinks he found, Camilla handles vendors. I approve based on her recommendations.”
Interesting.
The blame had started already.
I wrote down exact words.
Then called Elena.
She said:
“Do not interview your husband.”
“I know.”
“Do not ask Camilla anything.”
“I know.”
Then:
“There is a new development.”
“What?”
“Forensic team has beneficial ownership records for Meridian Influence.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“Not Camilla directly.”
Then:
“Her younger brother, Adrian Price, owns sixty percent.”
“And remaining?”
“A Delaware LLC owned by a trust.”
“Beneficiary?”
“We are tracing.”
Then Nathan came on line.
“Audrey.”
“Yes.”
“We found a reimbursement from Meridian to a private American Express card.”
“Whose?”
He paused.
May you like
“Julian’s.”
The vendor payments were no longer only Camilla’s problem.
