Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN THEY THOUGHT THEY OWNED
I woke up to thirty-seven missed calls.
Twenty-one were from Nathan.
Nine were from Eleanor.
The rest came from numbers I didn't recognize.
I didn't answer any of them.
Instead, I sat on the edge of the hotel bed and stared at the morning light.
My cheek was swollen.
There was a faint red mark across my face.
But the physical pain wasn't what kept me frozen.
It was the realization that I had spent five years believing I was part of a family.
When in reality, I had been their financial system.
My phone rang again.
Nathan.
This time, I answered.
“Where are you?”
His voice was sharp.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Why are the cards not working?”
I looked out the window.
“I canceled them.”
There was silence.
“You what?”
“I canceled every card connected to me.”
“You can't do that.”
“I already did.”
“Claire, this isn't funny.”
“I know.”
His voice changed.
“Your mother needs money.”
“Then you should give her some.”
“Derek's car payment is due.”
“Then Derek should pay it.”
“Vanessa has an appointment.”
“That sounds like her problem.”
Nathan breathed heavily.
“You are being completely unreasonable.”
I almost smiled.
“Interesting.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“For five years, you told me I was generous when I paid everything. Now that I stopped, suddenly I'm unreasonable.”
“Because you're punishing my family.”
“No.”
I looked at my reflection in the window.
“I am stopping the financial support I never promised to provide forever.”
Nathan was silent.
Then he said:
“You're my wife.”
“Yes.”
“That means you have responsibilities.”
“Marriage is not the same thing as funding your entire family.”
He hung up.
Ten minutes later, Eleanor called.
I answered.
Her voice was cold.
“You have humiliated this family.”
I laughed quietly.
“By turning off my credit cards?”
“You know exactly what you have done.”
“Yes.”
“You are cruel.”
“Did you call me cruel when I paid your mortgage?”
Silence.
“When I paid Walter's medical bills?”
Nothing.
“When I paid for Vanessa's vacation?”
Eleanor finally said:
“You had the money.”
“That doesn't mean you were entitled to it.”
“You married into this family.”
“I didn't sign a contract agreeing to support everyone.”
She hung up.
I sat there for a long time.
Then someone knocked on my hotel door.
I opened it carefully.
A woman stood outside.
She was in her early forties, with dark hair and a leather folder.
“Claire Morgan?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Rebecca Lane. I'm an attorney.”
I stared at her.
“I didn't call a lawyer.”
“No.”
She held up the folder.
“But you sent an email to my client last night.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who is your client?”
Rebecca looked directly at me.
“Marcus Hale.”
The name meant nothing.
Rebecca opened the folder.
Inside were copies of documents.
Bank statements.
Credit reports.
Loan applications.
Insurance records.
I stared at them.
“What is this?”
“Your financial history.”
“I know my financial history.”
“No,” Rebecca said quietly.
“You know what you paid.”
“You don't know what was done with your information.”
I felt cold.
“What are you saying?”
Rebecca showed me a loan agreement.
My name appeared at the bottom.
I stared at the signature.
It looked like mine.
But I had never seen the document before.
“What is this?”
“A business loan.”
“How much?”
She hesitated.
“Eight hundred thousand dollars.”
My heart stopped.
“I never signed this.”
“We know.”
“Then why is my signature on it?”
Rebecca closed the folder.
“That is exactly what Marcus has been investigating.”
I sat down.
“Who is Marcus?”
“Five years ago, your father hired him to conduct a financial review of Nathan.”
I looked up.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he was concerned about Nathan's financial situation.”
I felt dizzy.
“My father died three years ago.”
“I know.”
Rebecca looked at the email I had sent.
“Your father left instructions.”
“What instructions?”
“That if you ever believed your husband was financially abusing you, you were to contact Marcus.”
I stared at her.
“Why didn't my father tell me?”
“Because he tried.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Rebecca opened another file.
Inside was an old letter.
My father's handwriting.
Claire,
If you ever feel as though your marriage has become a financial obligation rather than a partnership, trust your instincts.
I read the next line.
There is more happening than you know.
My hands began to shake.
Rebecca looked at me.
“Your father suspected that Nathan married you for your money.”
The room became silent.
I thought about Nathan's first question when we met.
What did I do for a living?
I had assumed he was interested in me.
Now I wasn't sure.
Rebecca continued.
“Marcus began investigating.”
“Then what happened?”
“He discovered a pattern.”
“What pattern?”
She placed a report in front of me.
Nathan had contacted my father before our wedding.
Not once.
Four times.
I stared at the dates.
The first meeting happened three months before Nathan proposed.
The second occurred two weeks after.
The third was the day before our engagement party.
And the fourth—
I stopped breathing.
It happened the morning after our wedding.
May you like
Rebecca looked at me.
“Your husband has been planning something for a very long time.”
