Chapter 3 - THE COMPANY I THOUGHT NO ONE KNEW ABOUT
Morgan Strategic Ventures existed only on paper.
At least that was what I had told myself.
I created it two years earlier after a colleague invited me into a private investment group.
Claire knew I invested occasionally.
She did not know I had created an LLC.
She certainly did not know I had used it to borrow against assets.
Rebecca handed me the court filing.
“Your wife’s counsel is requesting a temporary restriction on transfers from Morgan Strategic Ventures pending discovery.”
I stared at her.
“How does Claire know about that company?”
Rebecca’s expression did not change.
“Your wife knows considerably more than you assumed.”
Apparently.
“Did she hire someone to follow me?”
“I can’t discuss her investigative process.”
“Investigative process?”
The phrase landed badly.
This was no longer Claire quietly packing bottles and baby blankets.
She had built a case.
Rebecca stepped backward.
“You have forty-eight hours to retain counsel.”
“Wait.”
She stopped.
“Where is my daughter?”
Her expression softened by a fraction.
“Hope is with her mother and is doing well.”
That was more compassion than I deserved.
“Can I see her?”
“That question belongs in the temporary parenting process.”
I hated the answer.
Not because it was unreasonable.
Because for the first time in my life, Claire had constructed a boundary I could not talk my way through.
Rebecca left.
I shut the door.
Then I called the only attorney I trusted.
My college roommate, Michael Reyes.
He listened for seven minutes without interrupting.
Then he said:
“Daniel, I need you to answer one question honestly.”
“What?”
“How much money did you move?”
“Eighty-three thousand.”
“Only from savings?”
I hesitated.
His voice changed.
“Daniel.”
“I borrowed against my company bonus.”
“How much?”
“Another hundred twenty.”
“Anything else?”
I looked toward the kitchen.
There was one more thing.
Something I had convinced myself barely counted because I intended to fix it.
“I used the house as collateral for part of the investment.”
Michael went silent.
Then very slowly:
“The house you just told me belongs to Claire’s family trust?”
“I thought we owned it.”
“How did you pledge it if your name isn’t on the deed?”
“I had a copy of a refinancing authorization.”
“Signed by whom?”
My mouth went dry.
Claire had signed a stack of mortgage-related documents the year before.
I had reused one page.
Modified the date.
Submitted it through the investment lender.
At the time, I told myself it was harmless because we were married.
Because I would repay everything.
Because the house was “ours.”
Michael swore.
“You altered her authorization?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It is exactly like that.”
I sat down.
“What happens?”
“You stop touching every account. You stop deleting messages. You do not contact Samantha about the case. And you send me every document tonight.”
“Samantha has nothing to do with the investment.”
“You sure?”
I almost answered yes.
Then I remembered the fake messages about Hope.
The anonymous emails.
The knowledge about the college fund.
“I don’t know.”
That admission scared me.
Michael asked for Samantha’s full name.
“Samantha Wells.”
He stopped typing.
“What?”
“Say that again.”
“Samantha Wells.”
Silence.
Then:
“Daniel, is she about thirty-two? Blonde? Works in corporate communications?”
“Yes.”
Michael exhaled.
“I know that name.”
“How?”
“She testified in a fraud case two years ago.”
My chest tightened.
“As a victim?”
“No.”
A pause.
May you like
“As the person accused of manipulating an executive into moving company money.”
And suddenly my affair stopped looking like the biggest mistake I had made.
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