PART 8

I didn’t sleep that night.

Not because I was afraid of Julian.

Because I was beginning to understand that fear was exactly what he had been counting on.

For ten years, he had trained me to doubt myself.

Whenever I questioned a strange charge, he called me paranoid.

Whenever I asked why his family laughed when they spoke German, he told me I was imagining things.

Whenever another fertility treatment failed, he held me and told me not to blame myself.

He had built a world where every bad thing seemed to be my fault.

And I had believed him.

Until now.

At 6:42 the next morning, I heard the shower turn on.

I waited until the bathroom door closed.

Then I picked up my phone and called Daniel.

He answered on the second ring.

“Claire?”

“I found something.”

His voice immediately sharpened.

“What?”

“A trust amendment.”

Silence.

Then:

“Tell me exactly what it says.”

I explained.

When I finished, Daniel asked, “Are you certain the document was dated after your father’s death?”

“Yes.” “And your father’s signature appears on it?”

“Yes.”

“Did you photograph it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means you don’t touch that document again.”

My heart started racing.

“Why?”

“Because if the signature is forged, we’re potentially looking at fraud. But I need the original examined by a forensic document expert.”

“Can we prove it?”

“Maybe.”

“What about the trust?”

“I’ll investigate it.”

I lowered my voice.

“Daniel, there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Julian knew I had been in his office.”

“How?”

“He caught me.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“No.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re safe.”

I looked toward the bathroom.

“He looked terrified.”

Daniel was quiet.

Then he said, “That’s useful.”

“Useful?”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“If Julian is afraid, he’s likely to make a mistake.”

I stared at the bedroom door.

“What kind of mistake?”

“The kind desperate people make when they realize they’re losing control.”

Julian came downstairs at 7:15.

He was dressed for work.

Perfectly pressed shirt.

Dark suit.

Wedding ring.

He looked like the same polished man who had walked into my life ten years earlier.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning.”

He kissed my cheek.

I didn’t move.

“Coffee?”

“Already made.”

He poured himself a cup.

Then he looked at me.

“Did you sleep?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry about last night.”

I looked up.

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t have accused you of being in my office.”

“You didn’t accuse me.”

He smiled.

“I know.”

We ate breakfast quietly.

Then he stood.

“I’ll probably be late tonight.”

“Business trip?”

He stopped.

Just for a second.

“Meeting.”

“With whom?”

“Clients.”

I smiled.

“Of course.”

He grabbed his keys.

Before leaving, he turned around.

“Claire?”

“Yes?”

“Whatever you’re worried about…”

He hesitated.

“You can tell me.”

I looked at my husband.

For a moment, I almost told him everything.

Then I remembered the photographs.

The agreement.

The trust.

The fertility records.

I smiled.

“I will.”

He left.

The front door closed.

I waited until his car disappeared.

Then I called Daniel.

“He lied again.”

“How do you know?”

“He said it was a meeting.”

“And?”

“He had already packed an overnight bag.”

Daniel exhaled.

“Send me the photographs.”

“I will.”

“And Claire?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t follow him.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

I ended the call.

Then I sat at the kitchen table.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t waiting for Julian to tell me what was happening.

I was going to find out myself.

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART….