Chapter 5
I had met Claire once.
At least, I thought I had.
Three years earlier, I had seen her across a courtroom hallway during the final hearing over an old financial dispute with Michael.
He told me she was bitter.
He told me their divorce had been ugly.
He told me she had tried to destroy his relationship with his mother.
I believed him.
Now Diane had apparently been sending Claire money for three years.
“Why is your mother paying your ex-wife?” I asked.
Michael stared at the floor.
“I don’t know.”
Lauren spoke through the phone.
“That’s not true.”
Michael snapped.
“Stay out of this.”
I almost smiled at the insanity.
“My sister is kissing my husband and helping my mother-in-law hide debt, but now you want boundaries?”
Nobody answered.
I ended the call.
Then I looked at Michael.
“Start talking.”
“I don’t know exactly why Mom pays Claire.”
“Exactly?”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I knew there was an arrangement.”
“What arrangement?”
“After Dad died, Claire threatened to reopen something from the divorce.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
I stared at him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“It had to do with money.”
“Everything in your family seems to.”
He sat.
For the first time that night, Michael looked scared instead of defensive.
“My father handled it.”
“Handled what?”
“I was told not to ask questions.”
“You were an adult.”
“You don’t understand my family.”
“I’m beginning to.”
His phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His face changed.
“Who is it?”
“Mom.”
“What does she want?”
He turned the screen away.
I reached for my coat.
“Sarah.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You can’t drive around all night.”
“I’m staying with Marissa.”
He looked relieved for half a second.
I noticed.
That frightened me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re relieved I’m leaving.”
“No.”
“Yes, you are.”
I stared at him.
“What are you planning to do after I leave?”
“Nothing.”
I walked toward his office.
He blocked the hallway.
That answered me.
I stopped.
“What’s still in there?”
“Sarah, enough.”
“No.”
“You’ve taken documents that belong to me.”
“They contain my forged signature.”
“I said I’ll explain everything.”
“Move.”
His jaw tightened.
For one terrible moment, I remembered him sitting silently while Diane slapped me.
Now he stood between me and a room containing evidence.
I reached into my purse and held my phone.
“If you stop me, I call 911.”
His expression collapsed.
He moved.
I went upstairs.
This time I photographed everything.
Every statement.
Every lease page.
Every transfer.
Then I emailed the photos to myself, Marissa, and a new address Michael didn’t know.
When I finished, I noticed a thin envelope beneath the blue folder.
It had my name on it.
SARAH.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
I opened it.
Inside was a single piece of paper.
If you find this, he has started doing to you what he did to me.
My hands went numb.
There was a phone number underneath.
No signature.
But I knew.
Claire.
I took the letter.
Michael was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
He saw my face.
“What did you find?”
I held up the envelope.
His expression answered before he spoke.
“When did Claire put this in your office?”
“She didn’t.”
“Then who did?”
He said nothing.
“Michael.”
“My mother.”
I almost laughed.
“Your mother kept a warning from your ex-wife in your office?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No. It’s disgusting.”
I walked past him.
He caught my sleeve.
I jerked away.
“Never grab me again.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Save it.”
I left.
At Marissa’s house, Emma was asleep.
I sat at her kitchen table while Marissa read copies of the documents.
She was a nurse, not a lawyer, but even she could see what mattered.
“That signature isn’t yours.”
“No.”
“And Michael moved forty-eight thousand dollars?”
“Yes.”
She looked furious.
“You need an attorney tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“Tonight, change every password you can.”
I did.
Bank.
Email.
Credit cards.
Cloud storage.
Then I checked our joint savings account.
The balance made my stomach hurt.
$3,214.
Three months earlier, it had held more than $52,000.
I opened the transaction history.
The transfer had happened in four smaller amounts.
All on Thursdays.
I started crying then.
Not loudly.
I simply stared at the screen while tears fell.
Marissa sat beside me.
“Sarah.”
“I worked overtime for that money.”
“I know.”
“That was for Emma.”
“I know.”
“I trusted him.”
She squeezed my hand.
I wiped my face.
Then I looked at the number Claire had written.
It was nearly midnight.
I hesitated.
Marissa said, “Call her.”
So I did.
Claire answered after two rings.
“Hello?”
“My name is Sarah Collins.”
Silence.
Then she whispered, “You found the letter.”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“Is Emma with you?”
The question startled me.
“How do you know my daughter’s name?”
Claire exhaled.
“Because Diane talks about her.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did Michael do to you?”
Claire was quiet for several seconds.
Then she said, “Not over the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because if he knows we’re talking, he’ll panic.”
I looked at Marissa.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Meet me tomorrow morning.”
“Where?”
“A coffee shop in Evanston. Public place.”
I wrote down the address.
Before hanging up, I asked one more question.
“Why has Diane been paying you?”
Claire’s answer came softly.
“She hasn’t been paying me.”
I froze.
“Lauren said she saw transfers.”
“She saw my name.”
“What does that mean?”
“The account is in my name.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“But the money isn’t for me.”
“Then who is it for?”
Claire hesitated.
“For Michael’s son.”
I stopped breathing.
Michael had told me his first marriage had never produced children.
May you like
Claire continued.
“Sarah, Michael has a twelve-year-old son you were never supposed to know existed.”
