Chapter 1 - THE CALL THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
The second Abigail heard my voice, she stopped asking whether I was sure.
She had been my attorney since my father died three years earlier, which meant she knew exactly how much money sat inside the Whitaker Family Trust—and exactly how little of it had ever legally belonged to Garrick.
“Tell me you still have the folder,” she said.
“It’s in front of me.”
“Don’t touch anything else. Photograph every page. Then email the copies to the secure address I’m sending you.”
Another contraction tightened across my stomach.
This one lasted longer.
I gripped Garrick’s desk.
“Clara?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re thirty-eight weeks pregnant. You are absolutely not fine.”
I almost laughed.
Nobody had spoken to me with that much concern all morning.
I photographed the first document.
A loan agreement for $425,000.
My signature appeared beneath Garrick’s.
Except I had never seen the document before.
The second was worse.
A transfer authorization from my family trust into Garrick’s dealership group.
$780,000.
My name was signed at the bottom.
Not by me.
By someone who had tried very hard to imitate me.
I kept going.
$190,000.
$340,000.
$615,000.
By the time I finished, my hands were shaking.
“Abigail…”
“I’m looking at them.”
“How much?”
There was a pause.
“From what you’ve sent me? At least $2.3 million.”
My stomach dropped harder than it had during any contraction.
Garrick had spent years telling me I owed him for our lifestyle.
The house.
The cars.
The credit cards.
The vacations I rarely took.
But the numbers on his desk told a different story.
My money had been keeping him alive.
Then Abigail said something that made the room tilt.
“Clara, I pulled the original property records while we were talking.”
I sank into Garrick’s leather chair.
“What about them?”
“The house isn’t Garrick’s.”
“I know we bought it after we married.”
“No. Your father bought it through the trust six months before your wedding.”
My breath caught.
Abigail continued.
“Garrick’s name was never added to the deed.”
Another contraction hit.
Hard.
I closed my eyes.
Then warm liquid suddenly ran down my legs.
For one stunned second, I stared at the floor.
“Abigail…”
“Yes?”
“My water just broke.”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Call 911. I’m meeting you at the hospital.”
I grabbed my overnight bag from the nursery.
But before I left, Abigail gave me one final instruction.
“Clara, don’t call Garrick yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I found something else in the trust records.”
I stopped at the front door.
“What?”
May you like
Her voice became very quiet.
“Your husband tried to transfer the house to himself eleven days ago.”
