Chapter 6: The Dinner Table, Revisited
Theresa called at seven the next morning.
I was already dressed.
I had barely slept.
I let it ring twice, then answered.
"I want to meet," she said.
No greeting.
No preamble.
"Today.
Lunch.
Just the two of us."
"Why?"
"Because this has gone far enough and someone needs to be an adult about it."
I almost said no.
Then I thought about the folder.
About eleven days after the wedding.
About the way she had placed that loaded plate in front of Lauren while I sat in front of bare porcelain.
"Fine," I said.
"Noon.
The restaurant on Halford Street.
I'll book the table."
She was already seated when I arrived, dressed carefully, handbag placed just so on the chair beside her.
She looked composed.
She looked like a woman who had rehearsed.
"Sit down, Mariana."
I sat.
"I know you've been speaking to Robert," she said.
"And I know Aaron went behind Daniel's back to talk to you.
I want you to hear the truth from me directly."
"All right," I said.
"I'm listening."
"Daniel made mistakes.
I won't pretend otherwise.
But he is my son, and he is your husband, and the correct response to a problem in a marriage is not to cancel every payment and run to lawyers."
"The correct response to discovering your husband has been stealing from you for four years is exactly that," I said.
Theresa's chin lifted slightly.
"Stealing is a very strong word."
"It's the accurate one."
"He had access to those accounts."
"To manage household expenses.
Not to funnel sixty-two thousand dollars to a gambling debt he hid before we married." I kept my voice even.
"You knew about that debt, Theresa.
Before the wedding.
Aaron confirmed it.
Did you tell me?"
A pause.
"It wasn't my place."
"I was about to become your daughter-in-law.
It was absolutely your place."
"I thought he would handle it."
"With my money," I said.
"You thought he would handle it with my money.
And when he didn't — when it kept going — you said nothing.
You took the mortgage payments.
You took the utility payments.
You let me pay your hospital bill.
And then you sat me down in front of an empty plate and let Lauren mock me at your dinner table."
Theresa's composure cracked slightly at the edges.
"That dinner was not—"
"That dinner was the moment I understood," I said.
"Not just that you didn't respect me.
That you never intended to.
I was a funding source.
That was my role in this family."
"That is not fair."
"No," I said.
"It isn't."
The waiter appeared.
Neither of us ordered.
He retreated.
Theresa leaned forward.
Her voice dropped.
"If you pursue this legally, Daniel could face serious consequences.
Is that what you want?
To destroy your own husband?"
"I want the truth documented," I said.
"What happens to Daniel after that is the result of what Daniel did.
Not what I do."
"You're being vindictive."
"I'm being accurate." I placed my hand flat on the table.
"Here is what I am willing to do.
I will not file a separate civil claim against Daniel if he cooperates fully with the forensic review and signs the divorce papers without contest.
I will not pursue the money I have already lost.
I will walk away clean."
Theresa stared at me.
"You've already decided on divorce."
"He told me himself that he married me partly as a financial solution.
Yes.
I've decided."
"And the house?
My house?"
"Is no longer my responsibility," I said.
"As of two days ago."
Her face changed then.
The composure didn't just crack — it fell away entirely.
Underneath it was something I hadn't expected.
Not anger.
Fear.
"Mariana." Her voice was different now.
Quieter.
"The mortgage.
If it goes unpaid for another month — I could lose the house."
"I know."
"I have nowhere else to go."
"I know that too." I picked up my bag.
"That is a conversation to have with your son.
The one you protected for six years while he used my income to cover his debts.
Ask him to fix it."
I stood up.
"You should also know," I said, "that Victor Salles is under active investigation by the financial crimes unit.
When they pull Daniel's transfer records — and they will — your house payments will appear in that documentation.
I would speak to an attorney before the end of the week."
I left her sitting at the table with her carefully placed handbag and her rehearsed composure in pieces around her.
Outside, my attorney called to confirm our morning appointment.
"I'll be there," I said.
Walking to my car, I passed a restaurant window.
Inside, a family was having lunch.
May you like
A woman at the head of the table was laughing, passing a dish to the person beside her.
I kept walking.
