Chapter 4: What the Paralegal Kept
Megan walked back into the security office.
Grant looked up.
His phone was gone — slipped into his jacket pocket.
His expression had reset into something careful and composed, the face he used in meetings when he needed to control a room.
"I'd like to leave," he said.
"Unless Officer Delgado is charging me with something."
Delgado looked at Megan.
"I have a few more questions," she said.
She sat down.
"About the house."
Grant's eyes narrowed slightly.
"What about it."
"Is it still in your name only, or did something change when we refinanced in 2019?"
"That's not a conversation for—"
"Because I remember signing documents.
A lot of them.
And I remember our mortgage broker saying something about both names being on the deed going forward." She tilted her head.
"Was she wrong?"
Grant said nothing for three seconds.
"You'd need to pull the county records."
"I already asked someone to."
That was not entirely true.
But his face moved in a way that told her she'd landed somewhere real.
"Who have you been talking to?" he asked.
"Does it matter?"
"Megan." His voice dropped.
The composed face slipped just slightly.
"I want you to think carefully about what you're doing.
You have a daughter.
You have a life that functions because of decisions I made.
If you turn this into a war, she's the one who gets hurt.
Not me."
Delgado's pen stopped moving.
Megan looked at her husband.
"Say that again."
"You heard me."
"Say it again so Officer Delgado can finish writing it down."
Grant's mouth closed.
Delgado wrote.
Eighteen minutes passed.
Megan asked about the car — also in Grant's name.
About the investment account she'd been told was a joint asset.
About the life insurance policy she'd been the named beneficiary on for eleven years.
Grant answered three questions and deflected the rest.
He checked his phone twice.
The third time he reached for it, the door to the security office opened.
The woman who stepped in was in her late forties, dark hair pulled back, carrying a leather document case.
She looked at Grant the way you look at something you've been expecting for a long time.
"Mr.
Blake." She set the document case on the desk.
"My name is Carol Reyes.
I'm an attorney.
I represent Diane Marsh, your former employee." She glanced at Megan.
"And as of this morning, I also represent your wife."
Grant stood.
"This is a setup."
"It's a consultation." Carol opened the document case.
"Please sit down."
He didn't sit.
"Whatever Diane told you, she signed a non-disclosure agreement when she left my firm."
"She did.
It covers client information." Carol placed a single sheet on the desk.
"It doesn't cover evidence of financial fraud committed against a spouse.
That's a separate matter entirely."
Grant looked at the sheet.
Something moved across his face — fast, then gone.
"I want to see the full document before I respond to anything."
"Of course." Carol slid a second sheet across.
"That's a copy of the divorce filing you submitted six weeks ago.
And that—" a third sheet — "is a record of four wire transfers made from your joint marital account to a private account held solely in your name.
Totaling forty-one thousand, two hundred dollars.
Made over the past three weeks."
Delgado had stopped pretending to do paperwork.
Grant's hand went to the back of his chair.
He didn't sit.
He didn't speak.
"The account the money went to," Carol said, "was opened fourteen months ago.
Two months after you began your relationship with Ms.
— I'm sorry, what is her name?"
She looked at Megan.
"I don't know her name," Megan said.
"He never mentioned her."
"Of course not." Carol closed the document case.
"Mr.
Blake, you can respond to this now, or you can respond to it in a formal proceeding.
Either way, this conversation is being recorded with Officer Delgado as a witness." She looked at him steadily.
"What would you like to do?"
Grant picked up his jacket from the back of the chair.
"I'm leaving," he said.
"I'm not saying another word without my attorney present."
He walked to the door.
"Mr.
Blake." Carol's voice didn't rise.
"The bracelet your companion was wearing today — the one belonging to Mrs.
Blake's late mother — we'll need that returned before you go.
Officer Delgado can facilitate."
Grant stopped with his hand on the door frame.
May you like
He didn't turn around.
But he stopped.
