Chapter 3 - The Man My Mother Trusted
I did not open the door.
Not immediately.
Rebecca stayed on the phone while I checked the camera.
The stranger stepped backward and raised both hands.
Then he placed the blue folder on the porch.
“I’m leaving it here,” he called.
“Who are you?” I asked through the intercom.
“Daniel Cross.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Apparently it meant something to Rebecca.
“Daniel Cross?” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“Do not let him leave.”
That surprised me.
“You know him?”
“I know of him.”
I unlocked the door but kept the chain secured.
Daniel looked around forty, with dark hair beginning to gray near his temples.
His expression was serious rather than threatening.
“You’re Rebecca Shaw’s client?” he asked.
“How do you know Rebecca?”
“Because your mother knew her.”
My pulse jumped.
“My mother died six years ago.”
“I know.”
He looked down at the folder.
“I worked for her.”
Doing what?
That answer changed everything.
Daniel had been a forensic accountant.
My mother hired him secretly during the last year of her life because she had become concerned about Julian’s increasing interest in my inheritance.
I wanted to reject the idea.
My mother had adored Julian.
Or I thought she had.
Daniel explained that shortly before her death, she discovered Julian had asked questions about restructuring my trust.
She became suspicious.
So she made copies.
Records.
Instructions.
A safeguard.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She tried.”
He looked toward Harrison behind me.
“But she was sick. And she was afraid you’d think she was attacking your marriage.”
That sounded exactly like my mother.
“Where has that folder been?”
“With me.”
“For six years?”
“Yes.”
“Why bring it now?”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“Because someone broke into my office yesterday.”
My skin prickled.
“What did they take?”
“Nothing.”
He looked at the folder.
“They were looking for this.”
Rebecca spoke through my phone.
“Elena, let him in.”
Daniel entered.
For the next hour, Christmas disappeared.
We sat at my dining table while Harrison watched cartoons.
Inside the folder were copies of documents I had never seen.
My mother had created a protected trust.
Julian had no authority over the principal.
More importantly, any company formed using those funds without my written authorization could be challenged.
Then Daniel showed me a signature.
Mine.
Except I had never signed it.
My name had been forged.
I stared at it until the letters blurred.
Julian had not merely betrayed our marriage.
Someone had used my identity.
“Can you prove this isn’t mine?”
Daniel nodded.
“We can prove a lot more than that.”
Then my phone rang.
Julian.
All three of us stared at it.
“Answer,” Rebecca said.
I did.
“Merry Christmas,” Julian said cheerfully.
Noise filled the background.
Music.
Voices.
A crackling fireplace.
Not an airport.
Not Tokyo.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Just landed.”
“In Tokyo?”
A pause so tiny I might once have missed it.
“Yes.”
I looked directly at Daniel.
“What time is it there?”
Another pause.
Julian laughed.
“You checking up on me?”
There it was.
The old trick.
Turn the question around.
Make me feel unreasonable.
I smiled even though he could not see me.
“No. Harrison wanted to know.”
His voice softened.
“Put him on.”
I did.
Our son talked excitedly about his train.
Julian told him Daddy loved him.
I stared at the forged signature on the table.
When Harrison handed the phone back, Julian said, “Love you.”
For years, I had answered automatically.
That day, I could not.
“Safe trip,” I said instead.
Then I ended the call.
Daniel watched me carefully.
“You okay?”
“No.”
I folded the document.
“But I will be.”
The next morning, Harrison and I left.
I took clothing.
His favorite stuffed dinosaur.
Important documents.
Photographs.
Nothing else.
I did not empty our home.
I did not smash Julian’s belongings.
I did not leave an angry note.
I simply removed myself from the life he assumed would always be waiting.
Rebecca had arranged for us to stay at a furnished apartment owned by one of her relatives in Westchester.
By noon, we were gone.
At 2:40 p.m., Julian texted.
How’s my beautiful family?
I looked at Harrison asleep in his car seat.
Then typed:
We’re fine.
It was not a lie.
For the first time in weeks, we actually were.
That evening Daniel called.
His voice was tense.
“I found something.”
“What?”
“Northstar.”
My stomach tightened.
“What about it?”
“The company didn’t just buy properties.”
“What did it do?”
“It borrowed against them.”
“How much?”
“Almost nine million dollars.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“Why?”
“We’re still tracing it.”
“Is Julian in debt?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel hesitated.
“But there’s another name attached to several transactions.”
I expected Isabel.
It wasn’t.
“Who?”
“Victor Hale.”
I knew that name.
Everyone in Julian’s company knew that name.
Victor was Julian’s business partner.
His mentor.
The man who had stood beside Julian at our wedding.
Daniel continued.
“And Elena?”
“Yes?”
“Victor booked a flight to Aspen yesterday.”
The affair suddenly seemed less like a secret vacation.
And more like a meeting.
Then Daniel said the part that made my blood run cold.
“He wasn’t traveling alone.”
“Isabel?”
“No.”
May you like
Daniel paused.
“Your husband’s brother.”
