CHAPTER 3 — THE THINGS THEY STOLE FROM ME

Three years of marriage had cost Nora more than she realized.

She discovered the exact number at six the next morning.

$1,842,760.

Nora stared at the spreadsheet on her laptop.

Transfers.

Loans.

Investments.

Property guarantees.

Company expenses.

Money had flowed from her accounts into Ethan Cross's life so gradually that she'd never looked at the total.

There had always been a reason.

The company needs temporary liquidity.

Mom found a wonderful investment opportunity.

My brother will pay you back.

We're married, Nora. Why are you keeping score?

So she hadn't.

That had been her mistake.

And the money wasn't everything.

Nora opened another folder.

Her grandmother's jewelry had been “temporarily” placed in Ethan's family safe.

A piece of Vale family property had been used as collateral.

Three suppliers she'd introduced to Ethan now worked almost exclusively with Cross Holdings.

And the commercial redevelopment proposal everyone praised Ethan for?

Nora had written half of it.

He had accepted the award.

She stood beside him and smiled for photographs.

Nora closed the laptop.

In her first life, Ethan had stolen from her before he ever took that box of food.

She simply hadn't called it stealing.

Her phone showed 8:14 a.m.

By 9:00, Nora walked into Cross Holdings.

The receptionist immediately stood.

“Mrs. Cross!”

There it was.

That familiar expression.

Relief.

Nora had visited often enough that employees knew what her presence usually meant.

Ethan had forgotten something.

Ethan needed a signature.

Ethan wanted Nora to smooth things over with an investor.

Mrs. Cross would fix it.

Again.

“Is Ethan upstairs?” Nora asked.

“Yes, but he's in a meeting.”

“Good.”

Nora headed for the elevator.

The receptionist blinked. “Should I tell him you're coming?”

“No.”

That apparently caused more alarm than anything else she'd said.

The boardroom doors opened ten minutes later.

Ethan sat at the head of the table.

Six senior employees surrounded him.

His expression darkened when he saw her.

“Nora?”

She entered carrying a folder.

“Continue,” she said.

“This won't take long.”

His finance director looked uncomfortable.

Ethan stood.

“Come to my office.”

“Here is fine.”

“Nora.”

That voice.

Low.

Controlled.

A warning disguised as patience.

It had worked on her for three years.

Nora placed the folder on the table.

“I want copies of every financial document involving my personal accounts, my investments, Vale family property, and any Cross Holdings assets purchased wholly or partly with my money.”

Nobody moved.

Ethan stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

“I thought I was clear.”

“You came into my board meeting for paperwork?”

“My paperwork.”

A director suddenly became deeply interested in his tablet.

Ethan walked toward her.

“We'll discuss this privately.”

“No.”

His mouth tightened.

“You're making a scene.”

Nora looked around the silent room.

“No. I'm collecting what belongs to me.”

One of the executives coughed.

Ethan's face hardened.

“You don't understand how corporate financing works.”

There it was again.

You don't understand.

You wouldn't know.

Leave it to me.

For years, Ethan had made ignorance feel like one of Nora's personality traits.

She opened her folder.

“December 12. Four hundred thousand dollars transferred from my personal investment account to Cross Development.”

A bank statement landed on the table.

“January 8. Two hundred and seventy thousand used toward acquisition of the Westbridge warehouse.”

Another document.

“March 16. I personally guaranteed financing for the North Vale project.”

Another.

“Do you want me to continue?”

Ethan didn't answer.

His finance director looked at him.

That was the moment Nora knew she'd struck somewhere sensitive.

Good.

“There are also three intellectual-property agreements,” Nora continued. “And documentation showing that Cross Holdings used my business contacts to secure supplier contracts under preferential terms.”

“Nora, enough.”

“No.”

Ethan lowered his voice.

“You don't want to do this.”

In her previous life, those words would have frightened her.

Now she remembered an armored door closing in her face.

She met his eyes.

“You're right.”

For half a second, relief appeared on his face.

Then Nora smiled.

“I should have done it years ago.”

The boardroom door opened.

“What is going on?”

Margaret Cross entered like she owned the building.

In practice, she behaved as though she owned most things around Ethan.

Her gaze landed on Nora.

Displeasure immediately sharpened her features.

“I heard you're disrupting an executive meeting.”

“I came for my financial records.”

Margaret gave a short laugh.

“Your financial records? Nora, please. Ethan handles the serious finances in your marriage for a reason.”

Nora said nothing.

Margaret continued.

“My son gave you this life. Before you married Ethan, nobody in his circle even knew your name.”

Interesting.

The Vale family's contacts had been useful enough when Margaret wanted medical suppliers.

Useful enough when Ethan needed investors.

Useful enough when the Cross family wanted money for a bunker.

But Nora herself?

Disposable.

Margaret looked her up and down.

“Without my son, you'd have nothing.”

The room became painfully quiet.

Nora smiled.

“Then you won't mind when I take back everything I gave him.”

Margaret's expression changed.

Nora turned to Ethan.

“You'll receive formal notices today.”

“Nora.”

She walked out.

This time, nobody tried to stop her.

By noon, the first investment was gone.

By one, Nora's attorneys had begun unwinding two agreements and demanding repayment on a private loan that had long passed its due date.

At two, she liquidated the Cross Holdings shares she was legally free to sell.

At three, she revoked Cross Holdings' authority to represent her interests in a property transaction.

At 3:17, Ethan called.

She declined.

At 3:18, he called again.

Decline.

3:20.

3:21.

3:24.

Then Margaret called.

Nora blocked her.

Ethan's name appeared again.

Nora answered this one.

“What the hell are you doing?”

No greeting.

Finally,

The real Ethan.

“Recovering my assets.”

“You dumped the shares?”

“They were mine.”

“You couldn't have warned me?”

Nora almost laughed.

Had he warned her before using her money to prepare a shelter?

Had he warned her before choosing Clara?

Had he warned her before leaving her in the street?

“You said I don't understand corporate finance,” Nora replied. “Why would my little decisions matter?”

Silence.

That one landed.

“Nora, listen to me carefully. You're behaving irrationally.”

“Then consider yourself lucky.”

“What does that mean?”

“You won't have to deal with me anymore.”

“Nora—”

She ended the call.

Blocked.

Then Nora looked at her banking app.

Available funds had jumped dramatically.

Seven figures she could turn into food, water, fuel, medicine, solar panels and equipment before those numbers became worthless.

Ethan thought she'd weakened him.

He still didn't understand.

She was preparing to survive him.

That night, Nora finished cataloguing another delivery and collapsed onto her sofa.

A blue screen appeared.

Ding.

[Future Event Detected.]

Nora sat upright.

That was new.

The letters changed.

[Target: Ethan Cross.]

[Known future event: Target will lose access to emergency fuel supply in 26 days.]

[Probability of event: 94%.]

Nora remembered.

A fuel distributor Ethan depended on would cancel deliveries when panic buying began.

In her first life, Ethan had solved the problem through one of Nora's contacts.

The system flashed again.

[Host possesses sufficient future knowledge to intervene.]

[Would the host like to intervene?]

[YES / NO]

Nora stared at the choices.

Then pressed NO.

[Intervention declined.]

She leaned back.

Twenty-six days from now, Ethan would start making desperate phone calls.

And for the first time, Nora wouldn't answer.

“Let him wait until the world ends.”