Chương 10
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“I know.”
Maya paused.
“And if he comes home, you are not required to have a confrontation.”
After we hung up, Rebecca leaned back.
“This is officially beyond my grilled-cheese skill set.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, I looked at the clock.
It was after eleven.
Tomorrow had become a place I did not want to reach.
My phone buzzed.
Not Scott.
Jenna.
She had sent six attachments.
The first was the signed apartment lease.
The second was my driver’s license.
The remaining four were financial documents.
I opened the first transfer authorization.
My signature sat at the bottom.
It looked close enough to mine that anyone who saw only holiday cards might accept it.
But the capital C was wrong.
I always looped mine inward because a fifth-grade teacher once told me my handwriting looked like a doctor’s.
This one opened wide.
Rebecca leaned over my shoulder.
“That isn’t yours.”
“No.”
The second page carried a date.
I had been at work that day until almost seven.
The third attachment was a statement for an account ending in 4418.
My name appeared in the ownership field beside Scott’s.
I had never seen the account number.
The fourth was worse.
It was a personal financial statement submitted to a lender.
Assets were listed in one column.
Liabilities in another.
Our house appeared at a value higher than I would have guessed.
My retirement account appeared.
Our brokerage account appeared.
My father’s inherited assets appeared.
Then, beneath business interests, Ellison Strategic Partners was valued at seven hundred fifty thousand dollars.
I made a sound that brought Rebecca closer.
“What?”
I pointed.
She read the number twice.
“How can a company with no employees be worth that?”
“I don’t know.”
The statement had been signed electronically by Scott.
A second signature appeared beside his.
Mine.
Again.
Rebecca’s face hardened.
“He’s been using you as a balance sheet.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Not wife.
Not partner.
Not obstacle.
Asset.
At 11:36, Scott finally texted.
I need access to the house tomorrow morning.
I read it aloud.
Rebecca snorted.
“He has a key.”
I typed nothing.
Another message arrived.
There are work files in the guest room.
I looked toward the stairs.
The locked door.
“What work files?” Rebecca asked.
“I don’t know.”
A third message appeared.
Please do not touch anything in there.
I showed her.
She slowly put down her glass.
“He knows you noticed the room.”
“Maybe.”
“Claire.”
“I know.”
We did not touch it.
At 6:20 the next morning, I woke to the sound of a car door.
Rebecca was already awake.
She appeared in the hallway wearing yesterday’s clothes and carrying one shoe.
“Is that him?”
I went to the front window.
Scott stood beside his car.
He had changed shirts.
That meant hotel, Jenna’s place, or somewhere else with access to clean clothes.
I felt unexpectedly irritated by the shirt.
It was pale blue.
I had bought it.
He used his key and entered.
Rebecca stayed on the stairs.
Scott stopped when he saw both of us.
“This is ridiculous.”
“You said you needed files.”
“I do.”
He started upstairs.
I moved aside.
Not because he told me to.
Because Maya had told me not to interfere with access to his personal work materials unless there was a legal reason.
Scott reached the guest room and unlocked it with a small brass key from his ring.
So much for the broken knob.
He went inside.
I stood in the hallway.
He turned.
“Privacy?”
“No.”
His mouth flattened.
“I am retrieving company property.”
“Which company?”
The question hit.
I watched it.
He set his laptop bag on the bed.
“My employer.”
“Not Ellison Strategic Partners?”
For one second, he looked exhausted rather than angry.
Then the wall came back up.
“So you found the filing.”
“Yes.”
“It’s a dormant entity.”
“It has a bank account.”
His eyes shifted.
“Business account.”
“With pending transfers from accounts containing my money.”
“Nothing has transferred.”
“Because I disputed it.”
He looked at me then.
Really looked.
Whatever he had expected me to do, he had not expected speed.
“You froze the transfer?”
“I disputed authorization.”
“That money is part of a restructuring.”
I stared at him.
“There’s that word again.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I was trying to separate things cleanly.”
“By moving nearly three quarters of a million dollars into a company I supposedly own?”
“That figure isn’t accurate.”
“Which part?”
“The company ownership.”
“I’m listed.”
“On paper.”
I almost laughed.
“You say that as if paper is an imaginary place.”
He opened the closet.
Inside were three banker’s boxes.
I had never seen them before.
He lifted one.
I stepped closer.
“What’s in there?”
“Work records.”
“From your employer?”
“Yes.”
The box was labeled ESP TAX.
He saw me read it.
Neither of us spoke.
Then he tried to carry it past me.
I did not touch him.
I did not touch the box.
I simply said, “Leave that here.”
“No.”
“Maya told me to preserve records connected to the company.”
“Maya doesn’t own this house.”
“Neither does Ellison Strategic Partners.”
His jaw flexed.
Rebecca had come farther up the stairs.
“Scott, just leave the box.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“Apparently my sister is an officer in your company.”
“That filing is being amended.”
“Convenient.”
“Rebecca.”
“No, go ahead.”
She crossed her arms.
“Explain why her name is there.”
Scott looked at me.
“You want to do this in the hallway?”
“I wanted to do none of this.”
For a moment, something cracked in his expression.
He lowered the box onto the bed.
Then he sat beside it.
I had almost forgotten what he looked like when he was frightened.
Not angry.
Not cornered.
Frightened.
The last time I had seen it clearly was when his father had a stroke and Scott drove four hours without stopping.
“What happened?” I asked.
May you like
He looked at the floor.
“This got bigger than I expected.”
