Her Husband Tried to Flee the Country With His Mistress — Until the Wife Walked Down the Stairs of the Private Jet

Ethan swallowed hard, sweating profusely under the bright sun. The dark suit that had made him feel so powerful just five minutes ago suddenly felt like a suffocating straightjacket.

"Claire, listen to me," Ethan stammered, frantically trying to regain control of the narrative. "It's just a business realignment. I was going to call you when we landed in Monaco. We can handle this quietly through the lawyers."

"You weren't going to call me, Ethan," Claire replied flawlessly, her voice entirely devoid of human empathy. "You were going to let the massive fifty-million-dollar corporate loan you took out in my name default. You were going to completely bankrupt my father's legacy while you lived on a beach with your side piece."

Madison let out a sharp, haughty laugh, adjusting her red silk gown.

"Oh, cry me a river," Madison sneered, stepping closer to Ethan and gripping his arm possessively. "He outsmarted you, Claire. He took the money because he deserves it. Now move your goons out of the way before we have the pilot call airport security."

Claire let out a dark, humorless laugh that echoed over the humming jet engines.

"You can't call security, Madison," Claire whispered lethally. "Because I own this jet."

Ethan completely froze. His heart flatlined in his chest. "What?"

"The offshore shell company you used to book this flight? The one you’ve been funneling the stolen loan money into for the last six months?" Claire smiled, her eyes turning darker than midnight. "I set that up."