Chapter 5 - MELISSA CHANGES SIDES
I stared at Melissa’s message for almost a minute.
Emily read it over my shoulder.
“What does she mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Anne folded her arms.
“Find out.”
I typed carefully.
What other property?
The answer came immediately.
I don’t want to do this by text.
Emily looked at me.
“Call her.”
I did.
Melissa answered before the first ring finished.
Her voice was low.
“I’m in my car.”
“Where is David?”
“Inside the condo.”
“You went there with him?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course she had.
“He’s angry.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“He keeps saying you’ve been planning this.”
“Planning what?”
“To humiliate him.”
A strange laugh escaped me.
“Melissa, he brought you to our daughter’s wedding.”
“I know.”
Her voice broke.
“I know how that sounds now.”
“Now?”
“I thought Emily knew.”
I did not answer.
There were limits to how generous I could be.
She continued quickly.
“David told me this was the night everything became official.”
“What does that mean?”
“He said after the wedding he was moving out.”
I looked at Emily.
She could hear every word.
“And the condo?”
“He said it was temporary.”
“Who owns it?”
“Harrison Property Holdings.”
There it was again.
My pulse quickened.
“Do you know what else that company owns?”
Melissa hesitated.
“A house in Dublin.”
Dublin was one of the wealthiest suburbs outside Columbus.
“What house?”
“I’ve never been inside.”
“How do you know about it?”
“I saw documents.”
“What documents?”
“Property tax papers.”
I pressed my hand against the wall.
“Anything else?”
“There’s land.”
“Where?”
“Delaware County.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Melissa.”
“I swear.”
She sounded genuinely frightened now.
“I only saw the folder once.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Silence.
Then she said something I did not expect.
“Because I think he lied to me about everything.”
I almost said welcome to the club.
Instead, I waited.
“He told me the condo was purchased with money from an investment he made before your marriage.”
“That would be difficult.”
“Why?”
“We married at twenty-three.”
Another silence.
“He said you signed a postnuptial agreement.”
“I never signed one.”
“Claire…”
“What?”
“He showed me one.”
My entire body went cold.
“What did it say?”
“That you had waived rights to several business assets.”
“I have never signed a postnuptial agreement.”
Emily grabbed my arm.
“What?”
Melissa heard her.
“Is Emily there?”
“Yes.”
“Oh God.”
“Tell me about the document.”
“It had your name.”
“My signature?”
“Yes.”
I sat down on a chair near the corridor wall.
“Did it look real?”
“I thought it was.”
Emily crouched beside me.
“Mom?”
I held up one finger.
“Melissa, when did you see it?”
“Maybe two months ago.”
“Where?”
“The condo.”
“Do you know where it is now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you photograph it?”
She did not answer.
“Melissa.”
“I did.”
Every sound around me disappeared.
“Why?”
“Because something felt strange.”
My voice became very quiet.
“Send it.”
“I need you to promise something.”
“No.”
She stopped.
“I’m not promising you anything before I see it.”
“I could lose my job.”
I remembered then that Melissa worked at David’s company.
She had started as director of client relations eighteen months earlier.
The affair began months later.
“What does your job have to do with it?”
Another silence.
Then she whispered.
“Because some of the money came through the company.”
I looked toward Anne.
Her face changed as she watched mine.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Whose money?”
“I don’t know.”
“Melissa.”
“I think David has been moving money through fake consulting invoices.”
My mouth went dry.
This was no longer just a marriage collapsing.
This was something else.
Something much bigger.
“Send me everything.”
“I will.”
“And Melissa?”
“Yes?”
“If my signature is on a document I never signed, do not warn David that I know.”
She whispered her answer.
“I won’t.”
We ended the call.
Thirty seconds later, photographs began appearing on my phone.
The first showed a document titled POSTNUPTIAL PROPERTY AGREEMENT.
The second showed a list of assets.
Harrison Property Holdings.
Westbrook Advisory Group.
Two brokerage accounts.
Three properties.
A private investment partnership.
At the bottom of the final page was my name.
Claire Elizabeth Bennett.
And beneath it was a signature that looked almost exactly like mine.
Almost.
Emily stared at it.
“That’s fake.”
“Yes.”
“How can you tell?”
I zoomed in.
Because twenty years ago I stopped using my middle initial in legal signatures.
Whoever had forged this document did not know that.
But someone had witnessed the signature.
A notary stamp appeared beside it.
And when I read the name, I recognized it immediately.
Karen Whitlock.
May you like
David’s longtime executive assistant.
The woman who had hugged me at Christmas every year for seventeen years.
