Chapter 11 - NATALIE’S SECRET
“I can explain.”
I almost laughed.
I had heard those words before.
From Ryan.
“Don’t.”
Natalie flinched.
“I’m not him.”
“Then answer the question.”
She stepped aside.
I walked into the apartment but refused to sit.
“Did you take the money?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Because it was mine.”
“That is not an answer.”
She rubbed both hands over her face.
“After I started suspecting Ryan had never finalized our divorce, I began looking through old financial records.”
“You said you found out two days before coming to my house.”
“I found out for sure two days before.”
I stared at her.
“So you suspected earlier.”
“Yes.”
“How much earlier?”
“Two months.”
Anger burned through me.
“You lied.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.”
“You came into my home accusing him of lying while you were lying to me too.”
“I know.”
That hurt her.
Good.
I wanted it to.
“Where did the ninety thousand come from?”
Natalie opened a cabinet and pulled out a folder.
“Remember the Denver house?”
“Yes.”
“I traced part of the sale proceeds.”
She laid bank records on the table.
Ryan had moved money through multiple accounts.
One trail led to Northstar.
“That ninety thousand was part of my money.”
“So you stole it back?”
“Yes.”
“Without telling police?”
“I didn’t know police were going to be involved.”
“You knew Ryan was committing fraud.”
“I suspected.”
“That’s the same excuse everybody keeps using!”
Natalie slammed her hand on the table.
“No, it isn’t!”
I went silent.
Her eyes filled.
“I spent twelve years being told I misunderstood what I saw. I misunderstood what I heard. I misunderstood money disappearing. I misunderstood women calling the house. I misunderstood bruises. I misunderstood everything.”
Her voice cracked.
“I finally found money I could prove was mine, and I took it because I was scared he would move it again.”
I wanted to stay angry.
Part of me did.
But another part understood.
Monica didn’t.
When I told her, she said, “This is a problem.”
“How bad?”
“Depends.”
Natalie voluntarily disclosed the money the next day.
Investigators froze the account.
She might face scrutiny, but because she had documentation connecting the funds to the Denver property, Harris believed she was unlikely to be charged.
Ryan’s attempt to divide us failed.
Barely.
But something had changed between Natalie and me.
Trust, once damaged, never returns in exactly the same shape.
Three days later, investigators searched a cabin Ryan’s mother owned near Lake Cumberland.
His mother, Diane, had insisted he never used it.
Phone records proved otherwise.
Police found a locked safe behind a bedroom wall.
Inside were cash bundles.
Jewelry.
Foreign currency.
And a stack of notebooks.
Ryan’s handwriting covered every page.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Some entries were simple.
Megan — 40K.
Natalie — Denver.
Claire — HELOC.
Sophia — paid.
I stared at that last word.
Paid.
Detective Harris turned the page.
Another entry appeared underneath.
CLAIRE — OCTOBER 14.
I looked at the calendar on the wall.
October 14 was nine days away.
May you like
Beside the date, Ryan had written one word.
FINAL.
