Chapter 4 - MY HUSBAND FINALLY TOLD ME HOW WE MET
I let Mark talk.
For once, I did not interrupt.
“Scott introduced us.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“How?”
“He invited me to the networking event.”
“You were paid eight thousand dollars three days later.”
Mark went quiet.
“Claire.”
“What was the money for?”
“Work.”
“What work?”
“Client acquisition.”
“Me?”
“No.”
“Wrong answer.”
He exhaled hard.
“I worked for Scott’s consulting company part-time.”
“I never knew that.”
“It was before we were serious.”
“You were paid after meeting me.”
“Yes.”
“Was I the client?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
He went silent.
I waited.
Finally:
“Your father’s partnership.”
My stomach tightened.
“My father was dead.”
“I know.”
“What did Scott want?”
“Information.”
“About?”
“Bennett Commercial Holdings.”
The small property partnership I inherited from Dad.
“What information?”
“Land holdings.”
I stood.
“Why?”
“I didn’t know then.”
“But you know now.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
Mark hesitated.
“One parcel.”
Of course.
There was always a parcel.
“Where?”
“Outside Sacramento.”
My father had invested in industrial land near Sacramento years earlier.
I barely thought about it.
The partnership handled management.
“How valuable?”
“Then? About four million.”
“And now?”
Mark’s silence told me.
“How much?”
“Maybe forty.”
I laughed.
“Wonderful.”
Apparently every family conspiracy came with hidden real estate.
“What did Scott know?”
“He believed a logistics company would eventually need the land.”
“Did it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Rail access.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why approach me?”
“Because you held thirty-eight percent of the partnership.”
“I still do.”
“I know.”
“What was the plan?”
“To convince you to sell.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
That was true.
Mark had never pressured me to sell Dad’s interest.
“Why not?”
“Because I fell in love with you.”
The sentence arrived exactly when expected.
I felt almost nothing.
“At first?”
“Yes.”
“God, Mark.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“No. You don’t.”
“I was supposed to date you.”
There it was.
Plain.
Ugly.
“Scott paid you to date me?”
“To get close.”
“Same thing.”
“Yes.”
“How long did the job last?”
“Three months.”
“And after?”
“I quit.”
“Did Scott stop?”
“No.”
“What did he do?”
“He threatened to tell you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me first?”
“Because by then I loved you.”
“Love seems to make men in my life very dishonest.”
“I was scared.”
“So you married me.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
I sat down.
My body felt heavy.
“Did Lorraine know?”
Silence.
“Mark.”
“Yes.”
“Dana?”
“No.”
“Did Lorraine encourage it?”
“Yes.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So when she said Hawaii was for family…”
“I know.”
“She knew I had literally been recruited.”
“She hated that I stayed with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I stopped doing what Scott wanted.”
“Then why is she working with him now?”
Mark’s voice changed.
“She isn’t.”
“What?”
“She thinks she is.”
I frowned.
“Explain.”
“Scott told Mom the Scottsdale house was compensation.”
“For what?”
“Helping him pressure me.”
My stomach tightened.
“The million-dollar house.”
“Yes.”
“Owned by Lorraine but occupied by Scott.”
“He said he needed temporary use.”
“That sounds believable.”
“I told her it was a bad idea.”
“And yet you signed the loan.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He had evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Our beginning.”
I laughed.
“That secret is already out.”
“Not only that.”
“What else?”
Mark breathed.
“Tax records.”
My chest tightened.
“What tax records?”
“From your consulting business.”
My anger flared.
“You gave Scott my records?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“He hacked an old storage account.”
“Do you know that for a fact?”
“He showed me files.”
“What did they contain?”
“Client invoices. Foreign payments.”
“I have international clients.”
“I know.”
“He said he could make it look like unreported offshore income.”
I went still.
Blackmail.
Not because I had done anything wrong.
Because accusation alone could damage my company.
“So you cooperated.”
“Yes.”
“With forged guarantees?”
“I didn’t forge your electronic signature.”
“Who did?”
“Scott.”
“How do you know?”
“I watched him do it.”
My breath stopped.
“You watched.”
“Yes.”
“And did nothing.”
“I told him to stop.”
“How heroic.”
“I know.”
“Did you sign the divorce petition?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Scott told me if I didn’t, he would send fabricated tax records to your clients and the IRS.”
“So you planned to divorce me to protect me?”
“No.”
At least he stopped lying.
“I planned to divorce you because I was a coward.”
The truth was almost refreshing.
“Did you intend to transfer the house?”
“I knew Mom had the deed.”
“You knew it was forged?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Anything else?”
Long silence.
“Mark.”
“The Hawaii trip.”
“What about it?”
“It wasn’t Lorraine’s idea.”
I stared.
“It was Scott’s.”
“Why?”
“He wanted me out of the country.”
My skin turned cold.
“You’re in Hawaii.”
“Yes.”
“Scott is in Scottsdale.”
“As far as I know.”
“What was supposed to happen while you were gone?”
“I thought he wanted time to file the property documents.”
“You thought?”
“Yes.”
“What does he actually want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mark.”
“I swear.”
Then I heard someone speaking near him.
A police officer.
Mark lowered his voice.
“Claire, listen.”
“What?”
“Scott has a copy of your passport.”
My pulse jumped.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“And?”
“He asked me two weeks ago when you were traveling.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Did Lorraine?”
“I think so.”
My fingers tightened.
“Why would he need my passport?”
Mark whispered:
“I think he planned to open accounts in your name.”
That was bad.
But not enough to explain Europe.
Then Priya texted while I was still on the call.
URGENT.
I opened the attachment.
A French corporate registration.
Filed the day after I arrived in Lyon.
Director:
CLAIRE BENNETT HOLLIS.
Company:
CBH EUROPE HOLDINGS SAS.
My passport number.
My date of birth.
My home address.
I had never heard of it.
I whispered:
“Mark.”
May you like
“What?”
“Someone already did.”
