Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN BEHIND THE SIGNATURES|
I didn't cry in the parking garage.
I sat in my car with both hands resting on the steering wheel and watched people pass beneath the bright afternoon lights. A young couple carried shopping bags toward the elevators. An older woman struggled with a stroller. Somewhere nearby, a child was laughing.
Ordinary life continued.
Mine had just split into two versions.
There was the woman who had married Grant fourteen years earlier, believing that love meant loyalty, patience, and building a future together.
And there was the woman who had just discovered that her husband had been using her name to protect a business arrangement involving his pregnant mistress.
I wasn't sure which woman I was anymore.
My phone rang.
Daniel Brooks.
I answered immediately.
“Tell me you haven't done anything reckless.”
“I just congratulated my husband on his engagement.”
There was a pause.
“That's not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“Did he mention the hearing?”
“He remembered the date.”
“Good. Then he understands that this is serious.”
I looked through the windshield.
“Daniel, Savannah is pregnant.”
“I suspected there was another personal relationship involved.”
“You knew?”
“I knew there were payments to Cole Strategic. I didn't know the details of their relationship.”
I closed my eyes.
“It's not just an affair. They're planning a wedding.”
“Claire, you're still legally married. Don't let either of them push you into an emotional confrontation that could hurt your position.”
“I don't intend to.”
“Then come to my office tomorrow. We need to review the evidence before October eighteenth.”
I agreed and ended the call.
For a moment, I sat in silence.
Then I opened my email and searched for the company name again.
Cole Strategic Consulting.
The first payment had been made eleven months earlier. The second followed three weeks later. By the time I reached the final transaction, I had found enough transfers to make my hands tremble.
But one document bothered me more than the others.
It was a consulting agreement carrying my digital signature.
The agreement authorized monthly payments to Cole Strategic for strategic planning and acquisition research.
I had never seen it.
I had never approved it.
And the signature timestamp showed that the document had been signed while I was attending a conference in Boston.
I remembered that trip clearly because Grant had called me three times that night, claiming he missed me.
Now I wondered whether he had been sitting beside Savannah when he made those calls.
I downloaded the document and sent it to Daniel.
Then I drove home.
The house looked exactly as it had that morning. Fresh flowers stood on the kitchen island. Grant's shoes were beside the staircase. A framed photograph from our tenth anniversary sat on the mantel.
In the picture, he was holding my waist.
I was laughing.
I picked up the frame.
For a long time, I studied the woman in the photograph.
She looked happy.
She looked certain.
She looked like someone who had no idea that the man beside her was capable of turning their marriage into a business opportunity.
I placed the frame facedown.
At eight fifteen, Grant came home.
He didn't remove his coat.
“Claire, we need to talk.”
I stood in the kitchen, holding a glass of water.
“About the wedding?”
His jaw tightened.
“Don't do this.”
“Then tell me what we're doing.”
He glanced toward the staircase.
“Not here.”
“This is our home.”
“It's complicated.”
“No, Grant. The affair is complicated. The fake agreement is criminal.”
His expression changed.
For the first time that evening, he looked genuinely frightened.
“What agreement?”
I watched him carefully.
“You tell me.”
He said nothing.
Then his phone lit up on the counter.
Savannah's name appeared.
Grant turned the screen facedown.
I didn't need to read the message.
May you like
I already knew who was waiting for him.
And I knew that whatever happened next, he would have to choose between protecting the woman carrying his child and protecting the company he had stolen pieces of from me.
