Chapter 5: The Thing About the Second Page
Marcus arrived forty minutes later.
By then, most of the guests had gone.
A few stayed — Rowan, two of Graham's cousins, the silver-haired woman with the brooch who turned out to be Graham's aunt, Eleanor.
She had positioned herself near Lily with a plate of untouched wedding cake and the quiet authority of someone who had decided she was not leaving until the child had eaten something.
Lily ate the cake.
I sat at the edge of the sweetheart table with Graham's jacket around my shoulders — he had placed it there without asking — and the flash drive in my hand, and I tried to remember everything Daniel had put in front of me during the divorce.
There had been so many documents.
I had been so tired.
Marcus was a compact man in his sixties, gray at the temples, who arrived in a dark suit that suggested he kept one ready.
He shook Graham's hand, nodded at me, set a leather folio on the table, and said: "Show me what you have."
We played both videos again on the DJ's laptop.
Marcus watched without expression.
When the second video ended, he asked the DJ to replay the section where Vanessa said the words *second page* and *transferred the day after she signed.*
He listened to it twice.
"What was the property?" he asked me.
"A house in Westport.
My grandmother left it to me directly — not to my mother, not split between us.
To me.
She put it in her will when I was nineteen." I stopped.
"She said it was so I would always have somewhere to go."
Marcus wrote something in his folio.
"And during the divorce proceedings, your ex-husband presented you with documents to sign."
"He said they were standard.
Asset release.
He said because the house was in my name alone, I needed to formally confirm it wasn't a joint marital asset."
"Did you have independent legal counsel review those documents?"
I looked at my hands.
"No.
I couldn't afford an attorney.
Daniel said it was routine.
He said if I hired someone it would slow everything down and cost more money I didn't have."
Marcus wrote again.
He didn't say anything about that.
"Do you have copies of what you signed?"
"I have whatever is in my divorce file.
I never looked at it after the settlement."
"I'll need everything." He looked up.
"The second page your sister referenced — that would be a deed transfer authorization.
If your signature appears on it and you were not informed of its purpose, that is f0rgery at minimum.
Depending on how the transfer was structured, it may also constitute fr@ud."
The word landed in the quiet room.
Graham was standing near the window.
He didn't move.
"How long would it take?" I asked.
"To establish what happened?
A few weeks.
To begin recovery proceedings?" Marcus tilted his head.
"That depends on what they did with the property."
"Vanessa sold it," Graham said from across the room.
"She used the proceeds as part of her down payment on the apartment she had before we moved in together."
Marcus looked at him.
"You knew about the apartment purchase."
"I knew she had savings.
I didn't ask where they came from." A pause.
"I should have asked."
"Do you have access to her financial records?"
"We have a joint account.
And I am still, technically, her husband." Graham's voice was flat.
"For the next few hours, at least."
Marcus nodded slowly.
"Then I'd like you to make a call."
While Graham stepped away with Marcus, Eleanor came and sat beside me.
She set a cup of tea on the table — I had no idea where she had found it — and folded her hands in her lap.
"I've known Graham since he was seven years old," she said.
"I have never seen him take his wedding ring off."
I didn't know what to say to that.
"He's a good man," she said.
"He's going to want to fix this."
"He doesn't owe me anything."
"No." She looked at me steadily.
"But he's going to want to anyway.
Let him."
Lily had fallen asleep in a chair near the bar, her yellow cardigan pulled up to her chin, her little white purse still looped over her wrist.
I watched her breathe.
Three hours ago I had whispered to her that we would stay for dinner and then go home.
We were still here.
And somewhere across the city, in whatever car she had called, Vanessa was making phone calls of her own.
Marcus came back to the table.
He sat down across from me and opened his folio to a fresh page.
"Mrs.—" He stopped.
"I'm sorry.
What name are you using?"
"Claire.
Just Claire is fine."
He nodded.
"Claire.
I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer carefully." He set his pen down.
"Is there anything else on that flash drive?
Anything beyond the two videos?"
I looked at the drive in my hand.
"I don't know," I said.
"Lily copied it.
I never looked at the full contents."
May you like
Marcus and Graham exchanged a glance.
"Then," Marcus said, "I think we should look."
