Chapter 3 - The Midnight Confrontation
The house in La Jolla was dark when Camilla pulled her sedan quietly into the driveway at midnight. The two-story Mediterranean-style villa had been purchased two years ago under the pretense of an investment property—an investment Lucas insisted they needed for tax purposes, though he had flatly refused to put Camilla’s name on the deed.
Back then, she had trusted him. She had been too exhausted from sixteen-hour shifts at the stove to argue over paperwork.
She killed the engine, slipped her house key into the front lock, and pushed the heavy mahogany door open.
The scent of expensive vanilla candles and cheap champagne hung thick in the foyer. From the living room, muffled laughter and the pulsing bass of a pop song drifted down the hallway.
Camilla walked silently across the hardwood floor, her footsteps swallowed by the plush Persian rugs. She didn't turn on the lights. She reached the threshold of the open living room and stopped dead.
Lucas sat on the cream-colored sectional sofa, his expensive silk shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a glass of bourbon in one hand. Straddled across his lap was a young woman with bleached blonde hair and a designer dress that cost more than Camilla’s first set of professional chef knives.
It was Chloe.
They were so absorbed in each other that neither of them noticed the shadow standing quietly in the doorway.
"Oh, baby, you're amazing," Chloe giggled, running her fingers through Lucas’s thinning hair. "Your mom said Camilla didn't suspect a thing at the restaurant today. Honestly, how long are you going to keep stringing that chef-bot along? Just divorce her and take the rest of the restaurant shares."
Lucas chuckled, taking a sip of his bourbon. "Relax, Chloe. Camilla is a workhorse. She likes the kitchen; she doesn't care about business paperwork. Once we liquidate Lumina next month to cover my tech startup debts, she won't even know what hit her. Besides, Mom loves you way more than she ever liked Camilla."
Camilla stepped out from the shadows.
"Is that right, Lucas?"
Her voice cut through the room like a butcher’s cleaver.
Lucas froze instantly, his glass tipping and spilling amber liquid across his white jeans. Chloe let out a sharp squeak, scrambling off his lap and stumbling backward against the coffee table.
"C-Camilla?!" Lucas stammered, his face draining of color as he scrambled to his feet, trying to button his shirt with trembling fingers. "What—what are you doing here? You're supposed to be closing up the restaurant!"
"I did close the restaurant, Lucas," Camilla said, walking slowly toward them, her gaze locked unblinkingly on her husband. "And your mother gave a wonderful speech there today. She even ran up a twenty-six-thousand-dollar tab entertaining thirty-eight of her closest friends on your dime—or rather, on my operating capital."
Lucas recovered enough of his blustering arrogance to pull himself up, glaring at her with irritated defiance. "You're making a scene over a lunch tab? Good grief, Camilla, my mother has friends in high places! You should be thanking her for the exposure! Instead, you're sneaking around our home like a lunatic—"
"Our home?" Camilla interrupted, her voice dangerously quiet. She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out a thick manila envelope, and tossed it onto the coffee table right between them.
Chloe stared at the envelope nervously, while Lucas frowned. "What is this?"
"That is a certified copy of the forensic audit conducted on our accounts over the last ninety days," Camilla said smoothly. "Every fraudulent wire transfer, every shell company withdrawal, every luxury hotel stay in Maui funded by Lumina’s payroll reserve. Coupled with a federal lien on this house."
Lucas sneered, crossing his arms. "You don't have the legal authority to freeze anything. Lumina is a marital asset—"
"Lumina was incorporated under a sole proprietorship three months before we married, Lucas," Camilla said, her eyes flashing with ice. "You never signed a single share acquisition document. The restaurant belongs to me. And as of midnight tonight, so does every cent you and your mother stole from it."
Before Lucas could process the words, his cell phone resting on the couch began to buzz furiously. Then Chloe’s phone buzzed. Then the landline in the kitchen started ringing with a shrill, uninterrupted shriek.
May you like
Lucas pulled his phone out, glanced at the screen, and went completely gray.
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