Please relocate those two immediately, Riiiip!

Mark unraveled quickly—rage, denial, pleading. Tiffany went silent, her interest evaporating with his power. When we landed, local authorities were waiting. They were escorted off for disorderly conduct and assault of the airline’s owner. As Mark was pulled away, I slipped a ten-pound note into his pocket.

“Get something warm,” I said. “It’s cold.”

The door closed. Calm returned.

James brought me a robe and escorted me to Seat 1A. I washed the champagne away and looked at my reflection—harder, but free. The weight I’d carried for three years was gone. I sipped Dom Pérignon as we resumed our course to London.

The rest of the flight was surgical. I dismantled Mark’s career from my laptop, forwarding evidence of financial misconduct to his firm. I finalized the sale of our house and activated the infidelity clause in our prenup. He would leave with exactly what he brought: debt and humiliation.

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