Jasmine resigned six weeks after the Slack message.
Not fired.
Resigned.
Her letter cited personal reasons and the disruption caused by the disclosed relationship.
Prescott Global accepted.
She negotiated no admission of wrongdoing beyond expense reimbursement.
That was realistic.
Her attorney was good.
The board continued reviewing Aaron.
He could not make the conflict disappear because Jasmine left.
The issue was his own disclosure obligation.
Michael Reeves remained COO.
The audit committee imposed temporary limits on Aaron’s authority over executive compensation and related-party matters.
Then the board commissioned a broader governance review.
Aaron’s father, Charles Prescott, was furious.
He had retired as CEO but still held influence through family shares.
He called two board members.
That made things worse.
Outside counsel documented it.
Independent directors became more defensive of process.
Nathan laughed when I told him.
“Powerful families often create their own discoverable record by trying to stop one.”
“Should I enjoy that?”
“Privately.”
I did.
A little.
Meanwhile, Jasmine sent me an email.
I almost deleted it.
Nathan said.
“Read if you want. Don’t answer without thinking.”
I read.
Claire,
I am not going to insult you by pretending I did not know what I was doing. I knew Aaron was married. He told me the marriage was effectively over. I wanted to believe him because it made my choices easier. I am sorry for the role I played in hurting you.
No excuses.
No request for forgiveness.
Then.
I also want you to know that some of the travel identified by the board was legitimate business work I performed. I have provided records. I accept responsibility for the personal portions.
That mattered.
Accuracy.
She did not deserve every corporate trip reclassified as affair spending.
She had done actual work.
I forwarded it to Nathan.
“Do you want to respond?”
“No.”
“Then don’t.”
I did not.
Later, in mediation, Aaron’s lawyer argued that my Slack post had harmed company value.
That got my attention.
“Are they claiming damages?”
Nathan said.
“Not directly. They’re trying to frame your conduct as marital misconduct affecting valuation.”
“Did it?”
“Prescott Global is private and much larger than one internal post. Any measurable effect would need proof.”
They had none.
The board review mattered more to governance than my Slack post.
The message created gossip.
It did not create the expense records.
It did not create Aaron’s undisclosed relationship.
It did not create policy.
Still, I accepted something uncomfortable.
The Slack post was reckless.
It named Jasmine publicly before any formal process.
I had known enough to believe the affair was real.
It was real.
But I had turned a private betrayal into workplace spectacle.
That part belonged to me.
I told Nathan.
“I regret the Slack post.”
He looked surprised.
“Good.”
“Again with grading.”
“No. Good because regret can make settlement easier if you don’t confuse it with legal liability.”
I considered apologizing to Jasmine.
Not yet.
Later maybe.
The divorce discovery continued.
Aaron produced financial records.
I produced mine.
No hidden offshore accounts.
No secret second family.
No dramatic criminal fraud.
The marriage had enough problems without inventing more.
One issue emerged.
Aaron had paid for some personal travel with Jasmine using a jointly funded credit card.
About twenty-three thousand over two years.
Not all trips.
Not all charges.
Priya traced.
Hotels after business conferences.
Meals.
Flights on weekends.
The law could consider dissipation.
Nathan made the claim.
Aaron’s side argued many charges had mixed business purpose.
Priya separated what could be supported.
We did not claim every dollar.
Credibility again.
Then something else surfaced.
I had used marital funds for renovations at the Marblehead property.
Not much.
Seventy-two thousand over three years.
Kitchen.
Roof repairs.
Exterior work.
Aaron’s side argued that created a marital claim to appreciation.
Nathan had warned me.
The prenup addressed it imperfectly.
So we valued.
How much appreciation resulted from marital contributions versus market changes?
Experts.
Reports.
Comparable sales.
Nothing instant.
I hated paying experts to tell us the value of a kitchen.
But this was what fairness looked like.
I had no right to demand perfect tracing from Aaron while treating my own mixed contribution as irrelevant.
That realization changed my tone.
At the next mediation, I agreed to credit the marital estate for the proven contribution plus negotiated appreciation.
Aaron seemed surprised.
“Why are you giving that up?”
Helen asked.
“I’m not giving anything up. I’m recognizing marital money went into my separate property.”
That was the point.
I did not need to win every issue to leave with dignity.
By the end of the second mediation, we had a partial agreement.
Marblehead remained mine.
Marital estate received a fixed credit for contributions and part of attributable improvement value.
Aaron’s premarital Prescott interests remained his.
Marital compensation stock valued under prenup formula.
Joint house would likely be sold unless one bought out the other.
Joint accounts divided after adjustments.
Dissipation claim on Jasmine-related personal spending still open.
Confidentiality narrowed.
No public release of private financial documents.
No restriction on discussing personal experiences.
Progress.
Then Michael Reeves requested to meet me.
Not as COO.
As a witness to board process.
I declined direct contact.
Told him to go through outside counsel.
He did.
At the formal interview, he told me something I had not known.
The board’s concern was no longer only expenses and Jasmine.
Aaron had pressured two managers to characterize personal travel as client development after the review began.
That was much worse.
Not because the original expenses were huge.
Because attempted cleanup can become a governance crisis bigger than the underlying mistake.
I looked at Nathan.
“Can I use that in divorce?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
The marriage was ending.
Prescott Global had its own problem.
At last, I understood the difference Aaron had refused to see.
Love had once made our lives overlap.
Law required us to separate them carefully.
The board interview with Michael also revealed something I had missed while married.
Employees had noticed.
Not the affair necessarily.
The favoritism.
Jasmine received access to meetings other executives at her level did not.
Travel approval moved faster.
Her team’s budget grew.
Some of that may have been justified by performance.
Some was not documented well.
Michael said.
“People stopped raising concerns because they assumed Aaron had already decided.”
That sentence bothered me.
Not because it described a crime.
Because it described culture.
Power does not need explicit threats when everyone learns which questions are unwelcome.
I asked.
“Did you ever challenge him?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He told me I was territorial.”
I knew that move.
Turn concern into personality flaw.
At home, Aaron had called me insecure when I asked about Jasmine.
At work, territorial when Michael asked about governance.
Different setting.
Same instinct.
Deflect the substance by diagnosing the person.
That realization made me less interested in whether Aaron had consciously manipulated everyone.
Habit can do enough damage without a master plan.
Michael also admitted he had enabled Aaron.
“I should’ve pushed harder.”
I looked at him.
“You were COO.”
“I was also his friend.”
There it was.
Role conflict.
Again.
The company’s new policies later required clearer escalation for executives who had personal ties.
Not because friendship is wrong.
Because friendship affects judgment.
After the interview, I told Nathan.
“Everybody keeps saying they should’ve pushed harder.”
“Common after a crisis.”
“Do you think I should have?”
“Do you?”
I thought about the first year of marriage.
The late nights began slowly.
Then jokes about Jasmine.
Then travel.
Then one dinner where she sat beside Aaron and I sat three seats away.
I had noticed.
I said little.
Why?
Because I did not want to sound jealous.
Because Aaron was good at calling suspicion insecurity.
Because Prescott events punished emotional mess.
Because I had believed adulthood meant being above drama.
Nathan said.
“You could have confronted him earlier.”
“Yes.”
“That might have changed something.”
“Maybe.”
“Or not.”
Exactly.
There was no useful version of history where I could prove the correct earlier move.
So I stopped building imaginary trials against my former self.
The next time Aaron texted about the board, I sent one approved response.
Please address corporate matters through company counsel. Divorce matters through Rebecca and Nathan.
He replied.
You used to talk to me.
I stared.
Then typed nothing.
He was right.
I used to.
Now the relationship had changed.
Boundaries often feel cruel to the person who benefited from access.
Click here to continue reading: PART 5: Aaron’s Attempt to Rewrite the Expense Records Became More Dangerous to Him Than the Affair Itself
The Slack Message Went Public, but My Real Exit Began With a Prenup and a Paper Trail
Part 4 of 16
