Chương 6
"Has Mark ever controlled the finances?"
I thought about it.
"We both have access."
"That wasn't my question."
I looked at her.
"He handles investments."
"Retirement accounts?"
"Mostly."
"Brokerage?"
"Yes."
"Bonuses?"
"Yes."
"Tax filings?"
"We have an accountant, but Mark usually communicates with him."
Claire's face did not change.
That scared me.
"Do you know the balances?"
"Approximately."
"How approximately?"
I named what I believed we had.
She wrote it down.
"Do you have access to all those accounts?"
"I think so."
"You think."
I shifted in my chair.
"I haven't logged into the brokerage account in maybe two years."
"Why?"
"Because I trusted my husband."
Claire did not react to the bitterness.
"Then today you verify access."
I stared at my coffee.
"If I find something, does that mean I'm already treating this like a divorce?"
"No."
"What does it mean?"
"It means you know what belongs to your household."
She slid the legal pad toward herself.
"Knowing facts is not declaring war."
I nodded.
My phone vibrated.
Mark.
Can we meet after work.
I showed Claire.
She read it.
"Do you want to?"
"No."
"Then don't."
"I need answers."
"Then decide what answers you actually need from him today."
I thought about Rebecca.
The mortgage.
The valuation.
The questions he had asked Ethan and Sophie.
"Why he did all this before telling me."
Claire gave me a tired look.
"That answer may not help you."
"I still want it."
"Fine."
She removed her glasses.
"Meet somewhere public."
"Why?"
"Because people behave better when someone is refilling water glasses."
I smiled despite myself.
"That's your legal advice?"
"That's my human advice."
At three twenty, Mark and I met at a coffee shop near Cool Springs.
He was already sitting in the back when I arrived.
He had shaved.
That annoyed me irrationally.
There was a paper cup in front of the empty chair.
Dark roast.
One packet of sugar.
He had ordered my coffee correctly after eighteen years of marriage.
Rebecca knew it after six months.
I sat without touching it.
Mark looked exhausted.
"I didn't know if you'd come."
"I almost didn't."
He nodded.
"Fair."
I waited.
He rubbed his thumb along the cardboard sleeve.
"I've been trying to figure out what to say."
"Try the truth."
His eyes lifted.
"Okay."
The word came quietly.
"I fell in love with Rebecca."
There was no surprise left in it.
Still, hearing it made something inside my chest pull tight.
I looked past him toward the counter.
A woman was trying to convince a toddler not to lick the display case.
"Does she love you?"
"Yes."
"How convenient."
He flinched.
I hated myself slightly for enjoying that.
"Laura."
"How long have you been planning a life with her?"
He exhaled.
"We talked about possibilities."
"That phrase again."
"What do you want me to say?"
"The unedited version."
He stared at the table.
"We talked about living together."
"Where?"
He hesitated.
There.
A pause with weight.
"Mark."
"At the house."
I felt my fingers go cold.
"With my children."
"Our children."
"Stop correcting the part that makes you sound better."
His jaw tightened.
"We thought keeping the kids in one place would be less disruptive."
"We."
"Yes."
"You and Rebecca decided where I should live so my departure wouldn't disrupt the children."
"When you say it like that—"
"How else should I say it?"
He did not answer.
I leaned forward.
"Was the valuation part of that plan?"
His eyes shifted.
"Yes."
"Who ordered it?"
"A guy Rebecca knows."
The room seemed to become quieter.
"Rebecca."
"She knows a real estate consultant."
"How?"
"Through work."
"What work?"
"Her brother uses him for investment properties."
I stared at him.
"Did you tell him I was living in the house?"
"Yes."
"Did he inspect it?"
"No."
"Then what exactly is that valuation?"
"A preliminary estimate."
"Why is it ninety thousand dollars below what the house might be worth?"
Mark stiffened.
"I don't know that it is."
"Did you intend to use that number to buy me out?"
He said nothing.
And this time, silence was not enough.
"Answer me."
He looked at the coffee I had not touched.
"We were trying to see what was possible."
"That isn't an answer."
"I don't know."
"You don't know whether you planned to give me less money for my own house?"
His face flushed.
"I hadn't gotten that far."
"You changed the mortgage occupancy status."
"I told you why."
"No."
I shook my head.
"You told me what you hoped it would accomplish."
He leaned back.
"What do you want from me?"
"I want to know how many decisions about my life you made with Rebecca before informing me."
He looked away.
That was when I saw it.
Not guilt.
Fear.
Not of losing me.
Of what I might discover next.
I lowered my voice.
"What else did you change?"
He looked at me again.
"Nothing."
Too fast.
My stomach tightened.
"Mark."
"Nothing."
"Accounts?"
"No."
"Insurance?"
"No."
"Beneficiaries?"
His face changed.
Just slightly.
But I had spent eighteen years learning his face.
I felt the floor tilt beneath me again.
"What did you change?"
Mark's eyes dropped to the table.
"I updated the life insurance beneficiaries."
For a second, I could not place the sentence inside my marriage.
The coffee shop kept moving around us.
Milk steamed behind the counter.
Someone laughed near the door.
A blender started with a violent mechanical roar.
"To Rebecca?"
"No."
He said it quickly.
"Then to whom?"
"The kids."
I stared at him.
"You removed me."
"I changed the percentages."
"From what?"
"You were primary."
"And now?"
"Ethan and Sophie are fifty-fifty."
I sat back.
That answer should have reassured me.
Instead it made the room feel colder.
"When?"
"October."
"Before or after you started asking them where they wanted to live?"
His mouth tightened.
"Those things weren't connected."
"Everything is connected when you're reorganizing a family in secret."
May you like
He rubbed his forehead.
"If something happened to me, I wanted the money protected for them."
