Chapter 12 - HE WANTED MY HOUSE AS A FAVOR
Andrew’s settlement proposal was six pages long.
It read like a document written by a man who had not yet accepted reality.
He wanted the house.
Half the cottage.
A share of my retirement.
Several joint investments.
And reimbursement for “marital contributions” he claimed he had made toward renovations.
Rebecca placed a spreadsheet beside it.
“Here’s what the records actually show.”
Andrew had contributed less than sixteen percent of the money used to purchase and renovate the house.
My inheritance had covered most of the rest.
Then there was the notarized agreement.
His signature.
His acknowledgment.
His problem.
Rebecca leaned back.
“If he takes this to trial, it gets worse for him.”
“Good.”
“You still need to decide what you want.”
That question stopped me.
For days, I had been defending.
Reacting.
Protecting.
Now someone was asking what I wanted.
“I want the house.”
“Reasonable.”
“I want my separate inheritance credited.”
“Absolutely.”
“I want every dollar he spent on the affair traced.”
“Yes.”
“I want Lorraine out of my life.”
Rebecca smiled slightly.
“That part may be easiest.”
I looked down at the settlement.
“And I don’t want revenge.”
Rebecca nodded.
“I want consequences.”
“That’s usually more effective.”
We countered aggressively.
Andrew rejected it.
So we prepared for trial.
Then his life began collapsing faster.
His employer terminated him for misuse of company systems and dishonesty during the internal investigation.
The bank referred the forged loan application for prosecution.
Melissa agreed to testify.
The HR contractor agreed to cooperate against Lorraine.
Daniel filed his own divorce action.
Andrew’s apartment lease fell apart because he could no longer afford it.
He moved into a motel.
Lorraine moved in with a cousin.
Then, suddenly, Andrew changed tactics.
He sent a letter through his attorney.
Not legal language.
Personal.
Rebecca asked if I wanted to read it.
I did.
Claire,
I know I destroyed your trust.
I know I failed you.
I was scared about money and made choices I can’t defend.
Melissa meant nothing compared to our marriage.
My mother pushed things too far, and I should have stopped her.
I still love you.
I stared at that sentence.
Then kept reading.
Please don’t let lawyers turn seven years into a war.
I think we can save something.
At the bottom he had written,
Remember who I was when you married me.
I folded the letter.
Rebecca asked,
“Anything?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“He still blames his mother.”
Then I saw the second page.
One paragraph had been added in smaller handwriting.
If this goes to trial, private details about both of us become public.
Think about your career.
The apology had lasted one page.
The threat arrived on page two.
I handed it back.
“File it.”
Rebecca smiled.
“With pleasure.”
Three days later, Andrew was arrested.
But not for the affair.
Not for the break-in.
Not even for the threats.
May you like
Police had found evidence that he had used my forged signature more than once.
The house loan was only the beginning.
