Chapter 3 - THE DIVORCE I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT
Grant asked Jessica to hang up.
I told her to stay.
“Jessica, what did he tell you?”
“Evelyn, I don’t want to be involved.”
“You’re sleeping with my husband on my yacht. You’re involved.”
Grant whispered my name like a warning.
I ignored him.
Jessica exhaled.
“He said your marriage had been over for months.”
Of course.
“He said you lived separate lives.”
False.
“He said you were staying together publicly until a business deal closed.”
False.
“And he said you signed an agreement last week.”
My stomach tightened.
“What agreement?”
“He said you agreed he could keep the Miami house and the yacht.”
I almost laughed.
There was no Miami house.
At least not one I knew about.
“What Miami house?”
Nobody answered.
I looked at Grant.
“Grant.”
He sat down.
“It’s not what you think.”
That sentence should be engraved on the tombstone of every bad marriage.
“Address.”
He gave it to me.
I searched the property record from my phone.
A four-bedroom waterfront home in Coconut Grove.
Purchase price:
$3.2 million.
Buyer:
GM Coastal Holdings LLC.
Manager:
Grant Mercer.
My hands turned cold.
“When did you buy this?”
“Six months ago.”
“With what money?”
He looked away.
“I borrowed.”
“Against what?”
Silence.
My investment firm owned our marital residence through a property company.
The yacht belonged to another trust.
Grant’s personal income could not support a $3.2 million house.
Not remotely.
“Against what, Grant?”
“My interest in Mercer Family Ventures.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t have an interest in Mercer Family Ventures.”
His face changed.
Exactly.
The company was mine.
Named Mercer because I had kept my maiden name professionally long before marrying him.
Grant had apparently allowed people to assume Mercer meant him.
“Show me the loan.”
He refused.
I called my chief legal officer instead.
At 1:32 in the morning.
She answered on the second ring.
“Evelyn?”
“I need every financing document connected to GM Coastal Holdings and Grant Mercer.”
She went silent.
“Why?”
“Because apparently my husband owns a house in Miami.”
Twenty minutes later, she called back.
“There’s a problem.”
I already knew.
“What?”
A private lender had issued a $2.4 million loan.
Collateral included Grant’s supposed “beneficial economic rights” in Mercer Family Ventures.
Those rights did not exist.
Attached was a spousal consent.
My signature.
Not mine.
Grant watched my face as I opened the PDF.
“Did you sign my name?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“I didn’t know they needed your consent.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
He stood.
“I didn’t forge anything.”
“Then who did?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“My business manager handled the paperwork.”
“Name.”
“Scott.”
Scott Landry.
Grant’s best friend since college.
A man who attended Thanksgiving at my home.
A man who once called me the smartest woman he knew.
Apparently smart enough to fund their lifestyle but not smart enough, in their opinion, to notice.
I forwarded everything to counsel.
Then I looked at Grant.
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“That’s it.”
I didn’t believe him.
The next morning proved I was right.
My CFO called.
“We found unusual transfers from your family office.”
“How much?”
“Just over one million dollars.”
I stopped walking.
“To whom?”
“Three entities.”
GM Coastal.
Landry Advisory.
And a company called Blue Current Hospitality.
I knew Blue Current.
They managed yacht charters.
Grant had always told me our yacht was never chartered because he wanted privacy.
Apparently it had been earning money.
“Who owns Blue Current?”
My CFO hesitated.
“Jessica Vale.”
The blonde woman on the yacht.
My husband’s mistress wasn’t simply sleeping with him.
May you like
She was doing business with him.
And for almost a year, they had been quietly earning money from an asset I owned.
