My Husband Called Me “The Biggest Mistake of His Life”
PART 3
I stepped out into the cold night air, but I didn’t go home.
Not yet.
Home was the townhouse Daniel and I had shared for nine years. The house where I’d cooked his meals, reviewed his contracts, stayed awake until two in the morning preparing financial projections, and watched him turn a small trucking company into something worth millions.
Tonight, I couldn’t bear to walk through its front door.
So I drove to my father’s old lake house.
It had been sitting empty for almost three years.
Daniel hated the place.
He called it “a depressing little cabin in the woods.”
My father had loved it.
He used to take me there when I was a teenager, before he died and left me the inheritance that eventually became the foundation of Prescott Logistics.
I parked beneath the old maple trees and turned off the engine.
For several minutes, I simply sat there.
Then my phone rang.
Daniel.
I didn’t answer.
It rang again.
Then again.
I turned it face down.
A message appeared.
Daniel: Where are you?
Another.
Daniel: Claire, don’t do this.
Another.
Daniel: We need to talk.
I almost laughed.
We needed to talk?
After six years of him calling me a freeloader?
After tonight?
After he had quietly transferred company money to his sister?
I opened my laptop.
The folder on my desktop was labeled:
PRESCOTT — ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS
Inside were thousands of files.
Operating agreements.
Bank statements.
Investor communications.
Tax records.
Purchase agreements.
Payroll reports.
Loan documents.
And one document Daniel had forgotten existed.
The original shareholder agreement.
I opened it.
There it was.
Claire Morgan — 51% voting ownership.
Daniel Prescott — 39%.
Employee Trust — 10%.
I stared at those numbers.
Nine years ago, Daniel had been terrified the company would collapse.
He had sat across from me at our kitchen table, his head buried in his hands.
“We’re going to lose everything,” he’d whispered.
I’d looked at him and said, “Then we’ll rebuild.”
I had transferred $640,000 from my inheritance.
I had used my accounting background to restructure the company.
I had negotiated the bank financing.
I had built the employee trust because I believed the workers deserved protection if Daniel and I ever disagreed.
And I’d accepted only one thing in return.
His promise.
That we were partners.
Not just in marriage.
In everything.
But somewhere along the way, Daniel had started believing the company was his.
Then he started believing I was his employee.
And finally, he started believing I was disposable.
