“Of course I will. At first I might not be able to answer much because of work,” Brandon replied smoothly.
His cell phone lit up with a new text, and Brandon quickly turned the screen away from her view.
Abigail managed to see a single letter “C” on the display.
She didn’t need to see anything more to confirm her suspicions.
Minutes later, he kissed her gently on the forehead.
“I love you,” he said.
“Me too,” she replied softly.
It was the very last lie he ever gave her.
Brandon went through the TSA security checkpoint and disappeared behind the thick glass partition. Abigail waited patiently until she could no longer see his coat, dried her wet face, straightened her slumping shoulders, and pulled out her phone.
There was a text message from her private investigator waiting for her.
“Confirmed. Clarissa is traveling on the very same flight to London, and they are pretending not to know each other. I have clear photos of them,” the message stated.
Abigail quickly typed back a reply. “Document everything thoroughly until they officially board the plane.”
She checked the digital clock on her phone, which read 9:38 AM.
At 11:00 AM, she had a crucial appointment at the bank, followed by a meeting at 1:00 PM with her legal counsel. Afterwards, she planned to completely revoke Brandon’s administrative permits at her home decor company.
When she stepped into the yellow cab outside, she received a final text from him.
“I already miss you so much. Be strong for me,” Brandon wrote.
Abigail genuinely smiled at her phone screen.
Within a few short hours, Brandon would discover that his credit cards no longer worked and that the cash funds he thought were available were fully protected.
However, even Abigail didn’t yet imagine that the bitter betrayal at the airport terminal was just the beginning of something much darker.
PART 2
“Are you absolutely sure that you want to revoke all of Mr. Brandon Vance’s access privileges today?” the bank executive asked cautiously.
“Yes, absolutely. I want to change everything that legally depends on me as the rightful owner and proprietor of the business,” Abigail stated firmly.
On the sleek desk sat a thick folder containing tax documents, sales receipts for the Tucson property, corporate account statements, and the temporary permits that Brandon used to operate certain financial accounts.
For a full hour, Abigail signed official documents and confirmed protective transactions. She did not empty shared personal accounts or take money that belonged to others. She strictly protected what she could legally prove was hers and halted any suspicious company transactions until her lawyer reviewed each transfer.
The total protected amount exceeded eight million dollars in liquid assets.
It represented twelve long years of her personal hard work, reinvested profits, and family wealth.
Upon leaving the bank, the private investigator sent her photographs of Brandon and Clarissa sitting together at the boarding gate after security, smiling and holding hands.
The first frantic text message arrived at 12:16 PM.
“Something’s wrong with my corporate card,” Brandon wrote.
Shortly after, another message popped up.
“Check the main account right now.”
And then a third frantic text appeared.
“ABIGAIL, answer your phone immediately.”
She chose not to answer any of them.
At one o’clock in the afternoon, inside an office in downtown Phoenix, attorney Rachel Sanders placed the official divorce filings and protective measures on the table.
“Save every single piece of evidence: text messages, voicemails, financial threats, apologies, and clear contradictions,” Rachel advised.
Abigail signed her name on the bottom line without hesitation.
Her cell phone started ringing repeatedly until Brandon left a furious voicemail.
“What on earth did you do?! The hotel front desk can’t charge your card, and Clarissa is furious right now. Call me back right now!” he yelled in the audio file.
