Chapter 3 - The Cold Truth
The heavy glass front doors opened, and Jason stepped into the foyer. He looked smaller than he had on the plane—his hair plastered to his forehead, his designer suit ruined, shivering so violently his teeth clicked together.
I handed him a dry wool towel without touching him. "Sit by the fire. Don't touch anything."
Jason took the towel with numb fingers, ignoring the leather sofa, and sank to his knees on the stone hearth, holding his shaking hands toward the roaring flames.
"Donald Vance orchestrated it," Jason said, his voice hoarse. "The night before I confronted you five years ago, Donald came to my office with a private investigator's dossier. He showed me bank transfers from your personal account to 'Julian Vance-Cross.' He told me Julian was a rival developer’s son. He swore to me that you were leaking Sterling Energy’s patent designs in exchange for secret payouts."
"And you believed him," I said, standing ten feet away with my arms crossed over my chest. "You believed a slimy corporate lawyer over the woman who slept beside you for four years."
"I was a fool!" Jason yelled, slamming his hand against the hearth stone. "I was terrified! Do you have any idea what it felt like to look at those papers and think the only person I trusted in the world was destroying me? But I didn't know... God, Claire, why didn't you just scream the truth at me?!"
"I DID!" I shouted back, stepping toward him, my face flushing hot. "I stood in our bedroom in Raleigh and told you Julian was my sick brother! I told you to call the hospital! And do you know what you said to me, Jason? You looked me in the eye and said, 'Your family is dead, Claire. Stop making up ghosts to cover your infidelity.'"
Jason flinched as if struck by a physical whip. He covered his face with his hands, a broken sob escaping his chest.
"You called my dead mother a liar," I continued, my voice trembling with old grief. "You refused to look at the medical certificates. You froze my bank accounts before I could pay Julian's final hospice bill. Do you know who paid for my twin brother's funeral, Jason? My research mentor at Duke University! Because your lawyers blocked every cent I had while my brother choked on his own lungs in a public ward!"
Jason fell forward, his forehead touching the cold stone floor at my feet. "I didn't know... Donald told me the funds were frozen because of a court order... I didn't know Julian died..."
"Julian died three days after our divorce was finalized," I said coldly. "And six months later, I gave birth to Ethan, Leo, and Mason in a county hospital in Boulder while working ninety hours a week to build my own company."
Jason lifted his head slowly, his eyes bloodshot, streaming with tears. "They're my sons, Claire. They have my face... my blood... How could you keep them from me?"
"Because a man who destroys a woman without listening to the truth doesn't deserve to be a father," I said cleanly. "You were toxic, Jason. You were consumed by power, paranoia, and money. If I had brought those boys into your world five years ago, your board and your lawyers would have turned them into corporate pawns. I saved them from you."
Jason closed his eyes, fresh tears spilling over his cheeks. He lay there on his knees for a long time, the silence of the mountain home wrapping around us like a shroud.
"Donald Vance," Jason whispered suddenly, his tone shifting into something dark, sharp, and terrifyingly cold. "Donald took over your vacated seat on the Board of Directors three months after our divorce. He purchased fifteen percent of Sterling Energy’s voting stock using a shell company registered in Delaware."
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I narrowed my eyes. "What did you say?"
"The Delaware shell company," Jason repeated, standing up slowly, his shivering stopping as a deadly focus settled over his features. "It was called 'JV Assets.' I thought 'JV' stood for Joint Venture. But it didn't. It stood for Julian Vance."
