Chapter 5 - The Confrontation
Jack stared at me. He tried to summon his usual arrogance, his trademark superiority. But his hands were still shaking. "What did you do, Megan?" he demanded, his voice cracking. "I believe I asked you a question first, Jack," I replied, crossing my legs. "How was the emergency surgery? Did you save a life?" He took a step forward, his fists balled. "Stop playing games! My accounts are frozen. The clinic's servers are locked out. My mother is having a panic attack in the airport terminal because the bank sent her a foreclosure notice!" "And Chloe?" I asked softly. "Did she enjoy the airport food?"
Jack stopped dead in his tracks. All the remaining color drained from his face. "You... you were there?" he whispered. "Terminal C. Right above you," I said. "I liked her suitcase. It matched yours. Very cute." He swallowed hard. His anger suddenly vanished, replaced by desperate preservation. He fell to his knees in front of my chair. "Megan, please. It's not what it looks like. She means nothing to me. It was just a stupid mistake." "A mistake?" I laughed. It was a cold, empty sound. "A mistake is forgetting to buy milk, Jack. You planned a European vacation with your mistress and your entire family. You packed bags. You bought non-refundable tickets."
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"They didn't know!" he pleaded. "Don't lie to me," I snapped, my voice finally rising. "Not anymore. I saw your mother adjust her sunglasses. I saw Ashley taking pictures of you kissing her. They knew." He hung his head, silent. "For ten years, Jack. Ten years I played the quiet wife. I smiled at your boring dinners. I ironed your shirts. I funded your pathetic, failing clinic in secret so you could feel like a big man." He snapped his head up. "What?" "Oh, you didn't know?" I smiled, leaning forward. "Did you really think your 'genius' surgical skills attracted an anonymous multi-million dollar angel investor? You were bankrupt, Jack. You were a terrible businessman."
"You're lying," he spat, though the fear in his eyes said he knew the truth. "Call Gerald," I said simply. "Ask him who owns the holding company that owns your clinic." Jack pulled out his phone, his hands trembling violently now. He already knew the answer. "This house," I continued, gesturing around the room. "Owned by me. Ashley's apartment? Owned by me. The loan that saved your mother's house? Financed by my private trust. I owned all of you." He stared at me as if I were a monster. "Who are you?" he breathed. "I'm the woman who just fired you," I said. "Now take your trash bags and get off my porch."
