“What attorney?”
“The one who represents me.”
Judith stepped forward.
“You cannot possibly afford an attorney.”
I didn’t answer.
That silence seemed to irritate her more than an argument would have.
“You are leaving this house with one suitcase,” she said.
“Remember that.”
I picked up Eli’s car seat.
“I’m leaving with my son.
Everything else can be discussed properly.”
No one tried to stop me.
Judith examined the suitcase while I carried it through the doorway.
Elise watched from the kitchen, looking almost amused.
Owen remained beside the table, one hand resting on the unsigned release.
I drove away before the tears came.
I was at the end of the street when my phone vibrated.
Rina had sent a message asking me to call immediately.
“Are you safe?” she asked when I answered.
“I’m going to Mae’s house.
Owen just told me he wants a divorce.”
“Don’t sign the company document.
We received the business filing we requested.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does it say?”
“Hearthline Management is registered in Judith Mercer’s name.
And we’ve obtained a document supposedly approving certain transfers.
It carries your signature.”
I pulled into an empty parking lot.
“I didn’t approve transfers to Judith.”
“I know.
The signature is dated the day after Eli was born.”
I looked into the back seat.
My son was asleep beneath the yellow blanket I had packed.
That day, I had been in a hospital bed, recovering from surgery.
I had barely been able to hold a cup of water without assistance.
And someone had apparently used my name to approve a business arrangement worth far more than the contents of the house I had just left.
Mae opened her front door before I reached the porch.
She had been my closest friend since college.
She was a physical therapist, the mother of two school-aged children, and one of the few people who had noticed how isolated I had become.
She took Eli’s diaper bag from my shoulder and showed me to the guest room.
“You can stay as long as you need,” she said.
I sat on the bed, stared at the navy-blue suitcase, and finally began to cry.
Not for the furniture.
Not for the expensive house.
For the marriage I thought I had, and the man I had once trusted enough to build a company and a family with.
Mae sat beside me without asking questions.
The following morning, she watched Eli while I met Rina at her office.
Three folders waited on the conference table.
The first contained the original operating agreement.
My thirty-percent membership interest was clearly documented, along with provisions governing major transactions and the members’ rights to inspect company records.
The second contained bank reconciliations and payment reports.
Rina pointed to a column of highlighted transfers.
“Based on the records we have so far, approximately $1.48 million moved to Hearthline over several months.
We need the full bank records to determine the precise total and what services, if any, supported the payments.”
I recognized several project identifiers.
They belonged to homes we had promised to renovate.
“Some of these are customer deposits,” I said.
“That’s one of the concerns.”
The third folder contained Hearthline’s registration and copies of documents relating to a proposed restructuring.
Judith was listed as Hearthline’s sole member.
