For a moment, only the hum of air-conditioning remained. Then Ethan rushed words together. “Claire, I can explain. It’s not what it looks like. Madison is a colleague. There was a conference.”
“In Oahu,” I said, “at a resort, with champagne and spa appointments.”
His excuse collapsed.
“This is what will happen,” I said. “Luca will print the itemized bill, email me the signed receipt and security footage. I’ll forward everything to our attorney. You will check out today and leave my brother’s hotel.”
“You can’t do that!” Ethan shouted.
“I already have,” I replied. “The card is frozen. I changed the savings passwords. And I’m on a plane.”
That part finally rattled him. “You’re where?”
“Honolulu,” I said. “I land in three hours. Be gone before I arrive.”
Madison muttered something—half insult, half realization. Then Ethan pleaded. “Claire, please. We can fix this. I love you.”
Looking out the plane window, clarity settled in. “If you loved me,” I said, “you wouldn’t have needed to lie.”
I ended the call and texted Luca: “Proceed with the plan.”
When I landed, Luca waited outside baggage claim in a linen shirt, more island local than the kid who once shoveled snow beside me. He searched my face, then pulled me into a steady hug.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be,” I replied. “You told me the truth.”
FOR ILLUSTRATIVE PURPOSE ONLY
On the drive, Luca explained everything. Ethan had argued, demanded favors, tried to use “family.” Luca stayed professional and required written authorization.
“Madison left first,” he added. “She said she didn’t know he was married.”
At the hotel, Luca handed me an envelope: the bill, the signed receipt, and a still image—Ethan at the counter, Madison leaning into him. Proof. Plain and final.
Ethan was still nearby when he saw me. His confidence shifted into calculation.
“Claire,” he said. “Thank God. Can we talk somewhere private?”
“Here is fine.”
