Chương 2
"Because he never read the agreements he signed," I replied.
Rebecca went quiet.
"You knew about the debt?"
"Yes."
"You knew the house was at risk?"
"Yes."
"And you saved it?"
I closed my eyes.
The strange thing was that hearing her say it sounded more painful than hearing Patricia call me a thief.
Because Rebecca sounded genuinely confused.
Like the idea that I had protected them did not fit the version of me they had created.
"I saved it because I was married to him," I said.
"And because I thought that meant something."
The silence that followed felt heavier.
Rebecca finally spoke.
"Does Grant know that?"
"He knew enough."
"No, Allison."
Her voice cracked slightly.
"He didn't."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Another pause.
A long one.
The kind people use when they are deciding whether honesty will destroy something.
"Before you left for court this morning," Rebecca said, "Grant told my mother he had a surprise for you."
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"What kind of surprise?"
"I don't know."
"Rebecca."
"I swear I don't know."
I heard movement on her end.
Maybe she was walking.
Maybe she was trying to get away from whoever was near her.
"But he was smiling when he said it," she continued.
"He said after today, you would finally understand what the Monroe family was capable of."
A cold feeling moved through my stomach.
Not fear exactly.
Something closer to recognition.
Grant had always hated losing control.
Even when he apologized, even when he admitted he was wrong, there was always a part of him searching for a way to regain the upper hand.
"What did he mean?" Marcus asked quietly from across the kitchen.
I hadn't noticed him listening.
I lowered the phone.
"I don't know."
And that was the first moment all day when the victory disappeared.
Because the house was mine.
The documents were real.
The legal process had worked.
But Grant had spent eight years learning how to hurt me without leaving evidence.
And people like that rarely walked away from losing quietly.
I brought the phone back to my ear.
"Rebecca, where is Grant's surprise?"
She hesitated.
"I don't know."
Then, almost whispering, she added, "But Allison, I think my mother does."
I held the phone tighter against my ear.
"What exactly did she say?"
Rebecca exhaled slowly.
"She didn't say anything to me directly."
"Then how do you know?"
"Because I heard her talking to someone last night."
The kitchen suddenly felt too quiet.
Even the distant shouting outside seemed farther away.
"Who was she talking to?"
"I don't know."
"Rebecca."
"I said I don't know, Allison."
Her voice sharpened for the first time.
Not at me.
At the situation.
"I heard enough to know it wasn't normal."
Marcus stepped closer and lowered his voice.
"Put her on speaker."
I hesitated.
Rebecca noticed.
"Is Marcus there?"
"Yes."
"Good."
The way she said it made me straighten.
"Because if anyone can tell you what this means, it's him."
I switched the phone to speaker and placed it on the marble counter.
Rebecca took a breath.
"Last night, I came by the house because Mom asked me to bring over some documents."
"Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"
"Because I didn't think it mattered."
That sentence bothered me.
People often said things didn't matter when they were afraid to admit they had ignored something important.
"What documents?" Marcus asked.
There was a pause.
"Something related to the divorce."
Marcus and I exchanged a glance.
"What kind of documents?" he asked.
"I don't know exactly."
Rebecca sounded frustrated with herself.
"Mom was in the study, and the door was almost closed."
"You listened?"
"No."
A small silence followed.
Then she admitted, "Not at first."
I almost smiled despite everything.
It was such a human answer.
Not a heroic one.
Not a perfect one.
Just an honest one.
"I heard my mother say Allison would never see it coming," Rebecca continued.
My stomach tightened.
"See what coming?"
"She said the divorce wasn't the end."
Marcus walked toward the counter.
"What else?"
"I heard another name."
"Whose?"
"Daniel Cross."
The name meant nothing to me.
But Marcus reacted.
Only slightly.
A pause.
A shift in his expression.
It was enough.
"Who is Daniel Cross?" I asked.
Marcus looked away.
"He's a private investigator."
My fingers went cold.
"Why would Patricia hire a private investigator?"
Marcus didn't answer immediately.
That worried me more than if he had.
"Marcus."
He rubbed his forehead.
"I need to know something first."
"What?"
"Did Grant ever accuse you of hiding assets during the divorce?"
"No."
"Did Patricia ever suggest you were dishonest about your company?"
"Constantly."
Marcus nodded slowly.
"That changes things."
Rebecca interrupted.
"Changes what?"
Marcus looked at the phone.
"Everything."
I hated when lawyers did that.
Not because they were wrong.
Because they knew how to turn uncertainty into a weapon.
"What are you not telling me?"
Marcus stayed silent.
The silence stretched long enough that I knew he was choosing his words carefully.
"I need to explain something about divorce cases involving significant assets."
"I know the basics."
"No."
His voice softened.
"You know the legal process."
He looked at me.
"You don't know how people try to manipulate it."
I crossed my arms.
"Explain."
"When someone believes they are going to lose financially, they sometimes search for evidence that can change the story."
"Evidence of what?"
"Fraud."
The word landed heavily.
Rebecca made a quiet sound.
"Are you saying my mother thinks Allison cheated?"
"I'm saying your mother may be trying to create a reason why the court should question Allison's ownership of her company."
I laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"The same company I built before I met Grant."
"Yes."
"The same company that funded the rescue of their house."
"Yes."
The unfairness of it almost felt familiar.
May you like
That was the worst part.
I had spent years defending myself against accusations that were built from nothing.
