Chapter 7 - The Man at the Closing
The person at the title company was Daniel’s business attorney.
He had come with a signed authorization and a stack of copies.
Nothing had closed.
Adrienne confirmed that before she let me breathe.
“He was trying to proceed without either of you present,” she said.
“The title company stopped when your dispute reached them.”
“Did the attorney know?”
“We establish facts. We don’t guess.”
That became the rule for my new life.
Facts before fear.
Records before arguments.
At noon, Daniel called eleven times.
Then came the messages.
You don’t understand the financing.
You’re going to destroy twenty years of work.
Think about our employees.
That last one landed exactly where he aimed it.
I knew those employees.
Their children.
Their mortgages.
The names of spouses who packed their lunches.
For years, he had used my care as a handle.
Now I recognized the grip.
Owen called from the company parking lot.
“My access is suspended.”
“Did you preserve the documents?”
“I sent the records already requested by company counsel before the suspension. I kept a log. I didn’t take anything outside the scope.”
“Good.”
His breath shook.
“I have rent due.”
“Document what happened. Adrienne can refer you to someone who handles employment matters.”
He paused.
“You’re really doing this.”
“Yes.”
That afternoon, Lauren asked to meet.
I agreed to a coffee shop with Ruth sitting nearby.
Lauren arrived without jewelry.
She placed a folder on the table.
“I want you to know I didn’t make those signatures.”
I didn’t touch the folder.
“What did you make?”
She looked down.
“The presentation. The new seating chart.”
My face heated.
“You removed my name.”
“He said you didn’t want attention.”
“You believed that?”
“I wanted to.”
At least that was honest.
She opened the folder.
There were printed emails from Daniel.
Instructions to describe me as inactive in the business.
Instructions to send my supposed separation agreement to his attorney.
A message about the necklace.
Tell her it was part of the settlement if she asks. She won’t make a scene in front of Ellie.
I read it twice.
Lauren whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll decide what that means later.”
I slid the folder closer.
“Right now, I need the original emails preserved.”
She nodded.
Then she showed me one final message.
If the deal fails, your consulting company repays the advance.
The amount was $180,000.
Lauren stared at me.
May you like
“He already spent most of it.”
And suddenly, her fear had a number.
