Chapter 8: Monday Morning
My lawyer's name was Patricia Howe.
She had an office on the fourth floor of a building downtown, with a window that looked out over a small park, and she had the particular manner of someone who had heard many difficult things and was not surprised by any of them.
She was surprised by the number.
"Three hundred and forty thousand," she said.
She said it the way you repeat something to make sure you've heard it correctly, not because you doubt the speaker.
"Across multiple accounts," I said.
"I have screenshots of the statements.
My sister was with me when I found them."
Patricia looked at the documents I'd printed at Carol's that morning.
She turned pages slowly and carefully.
"He told you it was a compliance issue at his firm," she said.
"He said he redirected funds from a client account.
He said he was working to replace them through a private broker."
"Steven Carr."
"That's the name he gave."
Patricia set the papers down and looked at me over her glasses.
"Nora, what your husband has described — redirecting client funds, using a private broker to move money through multiple accounts to cover the original amount — that is not a compliance issue.
That is wire fraud.
Potentially securities fraud as well, depending on how the accounts were structured."
The words landed quietly in the room.
"He could face criminal charges," she said.
"This is not a matter of paying back what he took and moving on."
"I know," I said.
"That's why I'm here."
She looked at me for a moment.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine," I said.
And then, because it was Patricia and she had seen enough to know the difference: "I'm not fine.
But I'm clear.
I know what I need to do."
She nodded.
"All right.
Here's what we're going to do."
She walked me through it methodically.
Protective orders on the joint accounts.
A formal request for full financial disclosure.
Documentation of the two years of my income and how it had been used.
Contact with a forensic accountant who could trace the movement of funds more completely than I had been able to do from Julian's email.
"What about Marcus?" I asked.
"He was involved in the transfers."
"To what degree, we'll need to establish.
But yes — if he participated knowingly in moving the money, he has exposure too."
I thought about Selina, sitting at the edge of the pool with her shoes placed neatly beside her.
*Whatever you decide, I'll support it.*
"There's a woman named Selina," I said.
"Marcus's wife.
She's indicated she'll cooperate."
Patricia made a note.
"That could be significant."
I walked out of Patricia's office at eleven thirty.
The park below the window had people in it — someone walking a dog, two older men on a bench, a woman pushing a stroller.
The ordinary machinery of a Monday morning.
My phone rang as I reached my car.
Julian.
I answered it.
"Where are you?" he said.
"I had an appointment."
A pause.
"Patricia Howe's office is in the Caldwell Building.
I drove past it this morning."
So he'd been watching.
Or guessing.
Either way, he knew.
"Yes," I said.
"Nora." His voice had shifted into something I hadn't heard before — not the boardroom calm, not the cruelty, not the cornered anger from the party.
Something rawer.
"I need you to understand that if this goes where you're taking it, it won't just be me who suffers.
The children—"
"Don't," I said.
"They'll grow up with a father who has a criminal record—"
"Julian." My voice was very quiet.
"Do not use our children as a reason for me to protect you from the consequences of what you did."
Silence.
"I have spent two years protecting this family," I said.
"I did it honestly.
I did it by working and sacrificing and showing up every single day.
You protected yourself by lying and stealing and letting me carry something I didn't even know the full weight of." I opened my car door.
"I am not going to protect you from this."
"Nora—"
"My lawyer will be in touch with yours."
I ended the call.
Sat in the car.
Looked at the park.
The man with the dog had stopped to let the dog sniff at something in the grass.
The dog was very interested in whatever it was.
May you like
The man waited patiently, in no hurry.
I started the engine and drove back to Carol's.
