“They prove that approximately four hundred and eighty thousand dollars left company accounts without legitimate invoices.””
A neighbor standing near the fence whispered something to another.
Ethan heard it.
“Everybody needs to leave!””
Nobody moved.
I looked at Margaret.
“Why are you telling me?””
“Because some of the transfers were made through an account registered to a company that uses your home address.””
For a moment, I couldn’t understand what she had said.
“My home address?””
Margaret nodded.
“Willow Creek Consulting. It was registered seven months ago.””
I shook my head.
“I’ve never heard of it.””
“Ethan listed you as a director.””
I turned toward my husband.
He stared at me, his mouth slightly open.
“Lauren, I can explain.””
The words sounded pathetic now.
“Explain what?”” I asked.
“That you registered a company in my name without telling me? That you moved money through it? That you used our home address to hide something from your business partner?””
“It’s not what you think.””
“Then what is it?””
He looked at Margaret.
She held up another page.
“The company has a bank account. Your name is listed as the primary authorized representative.””
I felt the ground shift beneath me.
I had never signed documents for Willow Creek Consulting. I had never opened a business account. I had never authorized Ethan to use my identity for anything beyond our ordinary household finances.
“Is there a signature?”” I asked.
Margaret nodded.
“Several.””
“Can I see them?””
She handed me the papers.
The first signature was almost convincing.
My name was written in the neat, slightly slanted handwriting I had used for years. The shape of the L, the loop in the final n, even the way the pen lifted after the last letter looked familiar.
But I knew it wasn’t mine.
I had signed enough documents to recognize the difference.
Whoever had copied my signature had studied it carefully.
My hands began to shake.
Ethan stepped closer.
“Lauren, please. Let me explain this privately.””
I backed away.
“No.””
His expression hardened.
“You don’t understand how business works.””
I stared at him.
“Apparently, I don’t understand how marriage works either.””
That silenced him.
Margaret continued speaking, explaining that she had already contacted the company’s external accountant and that the board had been notified of irregularities. She hadn’t wanted to involve me until she confirmed the account was connected to my identity.
But the discovery had become urgent when Ethan stopped answering her calls.
She had come to our house because she believed he might still have access to the home office computer, where some of the original records were stored.
I thought about the unfamiliar message on my phone.
The instruction to check the garage camera on March 14.
“Margaret,” I said slowly, “what happened on March 14?””
She frowned.
“Why?””
“Was there a transfer that day?””
She looked through the papers.
“Yes. A large one.””
“How large?””
“Seventy-five thousand dollars.””
I felt sick.
That was the same week Ethan had traveled to Chicago.
The same week he had told me he was exhausted, overworked, and desperate to get home.
I remembered him returning with a small gift bag from the airport. Inside had been a silver bracelet and a note saying he wished he could spend every night with me.
I had cried when I read it.
Now I wondered whether he had written the note before or after moving seventy-five thousand dollars through a company I didn’t know existed.
“Did the transfer go through Willow Creek Consulting?”” I asked.
Margaret nodded.
“Yes.””
I pressed my fingers against the papers.
“Then I need to see the garage footage.””
Ethan moved so quickly that one of the security officers stepped between us.
“No,” he said.
The single word was so forceful that everyone went quiet.
I looked at him.
“Why?””
“Because it has nothing to do with this.””
“Then you shouldn’t mind me watching it.””
He turned toward Margaret.
“You’re making a mistake.””
She closed the envelope.
“No, Ethan. I think I’ve been making one for a very long time.””
His face twisted.
