Chapter 4 - Paradise Lost
The quiet hum of the resort lobby seemed to freeze the moment I stepped across the polished travertine floor.
Harper stopped breathing. Her hand hovered in mid-air near her mouth, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of terror, shock, and total disorientation.
"Nathan...?" she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "How... how are you here?"
I stopped three feet in front of her. I took in every detail of her appearance—the thousand-dollar designer dress bought with my money, the pearl earrings I had given her for our anniversary, the gold bracelet Everett had bought her with stolen equity funds.
"It’s amazing what you can book when you don't 'forget' your plane ticket, Harper," I said smoothly.
Everett stepped forward, trying to puff out his chest, attempting to maintain his big-city developer bravado. "Listen here, Cole. I don't know what kind of stunt you're pulling with these illegal bank holds, but—"
I didn't even turn my head toward him.
"Shut up, Everett," I said.
The tone wasn't loud. It wasn't angry. It was the flat, crushing command of a man addressing a nuisance.
Everett blinked, his mouth snapping shut in surprise.
I opened the white leather folder in my hands, pulled out a stack of legally stamped documents, and handed the top set directly to the resort manager.
"Good afternoon," I said to the manager with a polite nod. "I am Nathan Cole. This is a certified court order from the State of South Carolina releasing my joint checking account from any liability regarding Suite 402. I have also authorized a single wire transfer of $18,420 from my separate, individual business account to clear the resort bill."
The manager’s eyes lit up with immense relief. "Mr. Cole! Thank you so much! We will process this immediately."
"However," I added, turning my gaze back to Harper and Everett, "that payment covers my financial settlement with the hotel. It does not cover their personal incidental charges, nor does it cover their return flights."
Harper took a frantic step toward me, reaching out her hands to grab my sleeve. "Nathan! Please! Sweetheart! What are you doing?! This is all a huge misunderstanding!"
I stepped back neatly, letting her hands fall into empty air.
"A misunderstanding?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling two first-class tickets bought nine weeks ago? Is that what we're calling $140,000 in forged home equity loans transferred to your lover's shell companies? Or were you referring to the email where you two planned to take fifty percent of my shop in a divorce?"
Every guest standing in the lobby turned to look at them.
Harper’s face turned from pale to an embarrassing, inflamed crimson.
"Nathan... please..." she sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks, smearing her expensive eyeliner. "Don't do this here! Not in public!"
"Why not?" I asked mildly. "You didn't mind humiliating me in public when you left me in Charleston while taking him to your sister’s wedding on my money."
"I made a mistake!" she wailed, using the exact same phrase she had used in our bedroom five days ago.
"You keep using that word," I replied, pulling a second legal packet from my folder and handing it to her. "A mistake is dropping a glass. What you did was a design. And I just finished tearing it down."
Harper looked at the paper in her hands.
STATE OF SOUTH CAROLINA – FAMILY COURT DIVISION
SUMMONS AND COMPLAINT FOR EMERGENCY DIVORCE
PLAINTIFF: NATHAN DANIEL COLE
DEFENDANT: HARPER WHITMORE COLE
GROUNDS: ADULTERY, GRAND LARCENY, AND FINANCIAL FRAUD
"You're... you're divorcing me?" she whispered, her hands shaking so violently the paper rattled.
"No," I corrected warmly. "I'm stripping you of every asset you thought you could leech off of me. The house in Lincoln Park is listed for sale under my sole name. Your mother’s house is facing a municipal tax auction. And your personal belongings from our bedroom have already been packed into cardboard boxes and dropped off at your mother’s front porch."
Everett let out an angry, desperate growl. "You can't do that! She’s your wife! She has marital rights to fifty percent of that house!"
I finally turned my eyes to Everett Vaughn.
I looked at him the way I look at a piece of rotten timber—with total clinical detachment.
"Mr. Vaughn," I said, pulling a third document from my folder and slapping it flat against his chest. "You are officially served with a civil summons for Tortious Interference, Fraudulent Transfer, and Commercial Conspiracy."
Everett grabbed the paper instinctively. "What?!"
"Furthermore," I continued, "when you return to South Carolina—assuming you can afford a coach plane ticket back—you will be greeted by the State Attorney General’s Fraud Unit regarding the $140,000 in forged equity transfers you accepted from my wife."
Everett’s face collapsed into total terror. "Wire fraud...?"
"Class E Felony in South Carolina," I said helpfuly. "Minimum five years."
I turned back to the resort manager. "Sir, I have cleared the hotel bill. However, I request that these two individuals be immediately escorted off the resort grounds, as their room reservation has expired."
"Right away, Mr. Cole," the manager said firmly. He gestured to the two broad-shouldered security guards. "Gentlemen, please escort Mr. Vaughn and Ms. Cole to the guest departure area off-property."
"Wait!" Harper screamed as a security guard politely but firmly stepped between her and me. "Nathan! Look at me! I’m your wife! You love me!"
I stood in the center of the grand lobby, adjusting my silver cufflinks, looking at her with absolute serenity.
"I loved the woman I thought you were, Harper," I said softly. "Turns out she was just cheap veneer over rotten wood."
May you like
"Nathan!" she shrieked as the guards guided her toward the glass doors, her designer heels dragging across the floor. "Nathan! Please! I have no money! How are we going to get home?!"
"You wanted a week alone in paradise, Harper," I smiled, turning my back on her as the heavy glass doors slid shut. "Enjoy the walk."
