Chapter 3: What He Found in the Dark
Uncle Richard's office was on the fourth floor, corner room, windows facing the parking structure.
I had never been inside it before.
I hadn't known he worked here until twenty minutes ago.
He closed the door behind us and pulled a chair close to the desk for me before sitting down himself.
Not behind the desk.
Beside it.
Facing me.
"How long have you been at St.
Jude's?" I asked.
"Fourteen months," he said.
"I took the directorship after your mother's sister retired from the board.
I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure you'd want to see me."
I looked at my hands.
"I would have."
"I know that now." He opened a drawer and set a manila folder on the desk between us.
He didn't open it yet.
"Tessa, I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly."
"Okay."
"Did you sign anything in the last six months that you didn't fully read?"
The question landed strangely.
"Bennett handles the finances.
He always said it was easier that way."
Uncle Richard's jaw tightened.
"That's what I was afraid of."
He opened the folder.
Inside were photocopied documents — pages I recognized.
My signature was on several of them.
But the dates were wrong.
The amounts were wrong.
One page had my name on a property transfer I had never heard of.
"I don't understand," I said.
"What is this?"
"Bennett has been moving assets," Uncle Richard said.
"Quietly.
For at least eight months.
He's been shifting money out of joint accounts and into holding companies registered in Delaware and Nevada.
Some of the transfers carry your signature."
"I didn't sign those."
"I know you didn't." He turned one page toward me.
"This one was signed the same day you were admitted for early contractions in March.
You were on bed rest for six hours."
My throat tightened.
"He visited me that day.
He brought flowers."
"He also visited the notary two blocks from this hospital at two-fourteen in the afternoon." Uncle Richard's voice stayed level.
"I have the parking garage receipt.
His car was here for eleven minutes."
I stared at the signature.
My name.
My handwriting, almost.
But not quite.
"He forged it," I said.
"Yes."
The word sat between us like something dropped from a great height.
"How much?" I asked.
Uncle Richard hesitated.
That hesitation told me more than the number did.
"Tessa—"
"How much, Uncle Richard?"
He turned another page.
The figure at the bottom had seven digits.
I didn't make a sound.
I looked at it the way you look at something you already knew was coming but hoped you were wrong about.
My daughter shifted inside me.
I pressed my hand to my side.
"He was going to leave," I said.
It wasn't a question.
"I believe he was planning to file for divorce once the baby was born," Uncle Richard said.
"With your accounts frozen and the assets transferred, you would have had very little legal standing.
The marriage would have looked like a financial partnership that simply dissolved."
"And Margot."
"She's listed as a co-director on two of the holding companies.
Has been for four months."
I thought about the flowers he brought to my hospital room in March.
Yellow tulips.
He knew they were my favorite.
"What do we do?" I asked.
Uncle Richard folded his hands.
"I've already spoken to an attorney.
Her name is Grace Okafor.
She specializes in financial fraud and matrimonial asset recovery.
She's been reviewing the documents for two weeks."
"Two weeks." I looked at him.
"You've been building this for two weeks and you didn't tell me."
"I needed to be certain before I brought it to you.
You're eight months pregnant, Tessa.
I wasn't going to hand you a folder full of accusations and send you home alone."
I looked at the window.
The parking structure outside was gray and ordinary.
Somewhere down there, Bennett's car was probably still in the lot.
"He's going to know something changed," I said.
"After what just happened in the hallway."
"Yes." Uncle Richard stood.
"Which is why Grace is meeting us here in forty minutes." He picked up his phone.
"And why I need you to stay in this building until she arrives."
My hand was still on my side.
My daughter moved again — a slow, rolling push against my palm.
"Okay," I said quietly.
"I'll stay."
Uncle Richard nodded.
He was already dialing.
But before the call connected, his office phone rang first.
He glanced at the screen.
His expression changed.
May you like
"It's the front desk," he said.
"Bennett is asking to come up."
