Chương 8
So I did.
Not elegantly.
I jumped dates.
Forgot details.
Went back.
Read messages aloud from the photographs.
When I reached the line about maintenance, Anna’s face hardened.
When I told her Rebecca had challenged Caleb on it, she frowned.
“That’s interesting.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say she was a saint.”
“I don’t want nuance yet.”
“Fair.”
I told her about the lawyer.
Her expression changed completely.
“That is not a consultation you brush off.”
“I know.”
“He retained someone with joint money?”
“Yes.”
“Without telling you?”
“Yes.”
“And labeled it tax reserve?”
“Yes.”
Anna sat back.
“That part bothers me almost as much as Rebecca.”
“It bothers me more.”
“Because it’s financial.”
“Because it was planned.”
The affair, whatever shape it had taken, still had room for stupidity and impulse.
The money did not.
The money had a date.
A transfer.
A false label.
A purpose.
Anna tapped one fingernail against the table.
“I texted Evan.”
I looked at her.
“When?”
“After you called.”
“What did you say?”
“That my sister needs a confidential consultation and possibly urgent advice about joint finances.”
“Anna.”
“You asked for his number.”
“I asked for his number, not an appointment.”
“I know.”
She held up both hands.
“I didn’t schedule you.”
My phone rang.
An unfamiliar Charlotte number.
We both looked at it.
“Is that him?”
“I don’t know.”
I answered.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Ellis?”
A male voice.
“This is Evan Mercer.”
I looked at Anna.
She winced.
“He called faster than expected,” she whispered.
Evan continued.
“Anna said you may want to speak with someone before making any financial decisions.”
“I do.”
“We can do a consultation this afternoon if that helps.”
I almost said no.
The instinct was immediate.
Calling him felt like stepping onto a road Caleb had already walked without me.
Then I pictured the transfer marked TAX RESERVE.
“What time?”
“Two thirty.”
“I’ll be there.”
After I hung up, Anna did not smile.
I appreciated that.
At two twenty-five, I sat in a conference room on the fifth floor of a law office in SouthPark holding a paper cup of water I had not touched.
Evan was younger than I expected.
Early forties, maybe.
Gray at his temples.
No dramatic mahogany desk.
No shelves of intimidating legal books.
Just a laptop, a yellow pad, and a wedding ring.
“I’m going to say this first because people often come in here feeling like speaking to me commits them to something.”
He folded his hands.
“It doesn’t.”
I nodded.
“My husband spoke to an attorney.”
“That can matter, but it still doesn’t require you to do anything today.”
“He used five thousand dollars from savings for a retainer.”
Evan’s expression sharpened.
“Do you have access to the account records?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He asked about the house, our incomes, Lucy, the length of our marriage, and whether either of us had moved out.
I answered.
When I showed him the screenshots, he read only a few.
“I’m not interested in moral grading here.”
“Okay.”
“I’m interested in what affects decisions.”
That was reassuring in a way sympathy had not been.
He asked whether I had reason to believe Caleb was hiding more money.
“I didn’t know he had moved this until this morning.”
“That’s not the same thing as hidden assets.”
“I know.”
“But it means you should preserve records.”
He told me not to drain accounts, not to move money impulsively, not to lock Caleb out of anything jointly owned, and not to threaten him with legal consequences I did not understand.
“Can I take Lucy and stay with my sister?”
“For a few nights?”
“Yes.”
“That’s different from relocating.”
He paused.
“If you feel unsafe, tell me now.”
“I don’t.”
“Has he ever threatened you?”
“No.”
“Controlled access to money?”
“No.”
“Been violent?”
“No.”
The answers came easily.
That hurt too.
Caleb was not a monster.
Monsters were easier.
“What happens if he files first?”
Evan shook his head.
“Filing first doesn’t magically make someone right.”
I looked down at my hands.
“What if he wants half the time with Lucy?”
“That is not a question I can answer from one conversation.”
“I do most of the parenting.”
“That matters as part of the broader picture.”
“He loves her.”
Evan nodded.
“Those things can both be true.”
I hated him a little for saying it.
Then I appreciated him for saying it.
My phone vibrated again.
This time it was a text from Caleb.
I finally heard from Rebecca.
She says she wants to talk to you directly.
I read it twice.
Evan noticed my expression but did not ask.
Another message arrived.
She says there are things I haven’t told you.
My stomach tightened.
For the first time all day, I stopped feeling like I was chasing Caleb’s decisions.
Something else had moved.
And this time, he looked afraid of what I might learn.
I did not answer Caleb.
I finished the consultation with Evan, signed nothing, paid for one hour from my own checking account, and walked to my car with a folder full of notes I did not yet want to read.
The September heat had trapped itself inside the car.
I opened both front doors and stood there while the air escaped.
My phone buzzed again.
Rebecca Sloan.
The number matched the one I had written on the grocery receipt at four in the morning.
For several seconds I simply watched her name exist on my screen.
Then I answered.
“Hello.”
“Margot?”
Her voice sounded careful, but not timid.
“Yes.”
“This is Rebecca.”
“I know.”
A pause.
“I’m assuming Caleb told you I reached out.”
“He did.”
“Did he also tell you not to talk to me?”
I looked across the parking lot at a woman loading shopping bags into a silver SUV.
“No.”
“He will.”
That made me straighten.
“What do you want?”
“To tell you what happened.”
“I have messages.”
“You have some messages.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
May you like
“What does that mean?”
“It means Caleb deleted things.”
