Chapter 7: The Things He Said I Didn't Understand
I didn't call him that night.
I didn't call him Sunday either.
I spent Sunday at Ruth's kitchen table with Sandra Okafor on speakerphone, walking through everything — the letter, the lease, the blocked messages, Carolyn's account of the inheritance lie, the second business account.
Sandra asked precise questions and made notes and did not react emotionally to any of it, which was exactly what I needed.
"The blocked messages are significant," Sandra said.
"It establishes a pattern of deliberate information control.
We'll want documentation of that."
"Juliette has screenshots," I said.
"Good.
The business account is the more urgent issue.
If he used marital funds to capitalize a business account that a third party co-signed, that's potentially actionable.
I'm going to need the account number and the date of the co-signing if Carolyn can provide them."
"She's willing to cooperate," I said.
A brief pause on the line.
"She contacted you directly?"
"Yes.
She's been trying to reach me for eleven months.
He blocked her messages."
Another pause.
Shorter.
"I see.
All right.
I'd like to speak with her separately, with your permission."
"You have it."
We ended the call just after noon.
Juliette was in the next room.
I could hear her talking to Marcus in a low voice, the kind of low that means *I'm trying not to worry her.*
I walked to the doorway.
"I'm fine," I said to both of them.
"You can talk at normal volume."
Marcus smiled.
It was a good smile — the kind that doesn't try too hard.
Adriel called again Monday morning.
I let it ring.
He called a second time twenty minutes later.
I let that ring too.
The third time, I answered.
"Diane." His voice was careful.
Controlled.
The voice he used in professional situations.
"I think we've both had time to—"
"Sandra Okafor is handling my legal affairs," I said.
"You should contact her directly going forward."
A pause.
"You hired a lawyer."
"Yes."
"Diane, that's — we don't need lawyers.
We can handle this like adults."
"We are handling it like adults," I said.
"Adults hire lawyers."
"I just want to explain the money.
The account — there are reasons for what I did that you don't know about.
If you'd let me—"
"Adriel." I kept my voice level.
"You wrote a letter fourteen months ago explaining exactly what you did and why.
I've read it.
I don't need a second explanation."
"That letter was — I was in a bad place when I wrote that.
It doesn't represent—"
"It represents your handwriting and your signature."
Silence.
"Is there anything else?" I asked.
"I want to come and collect some things from the house."
"Arrange it through Sandra."
"Diane, this is my house too—"
"Then you should have thought about that before you emptied the savings account." I paused.
"Sandra's number is on her firm's website.
Okafor Family Law."
I ended the call.
My hands were steady.
I noticed that specifically — I had expected them to shake and they hadn't.
Ruth was watching me from the kitchen doorway.
"Well," she said.
"Well," I agreed.
He called back four minutes later.
I watched the screen light up and go dark and light up again.
Then a text: *I know about the conversation with Carolyn.
She had no right to contact you.
She doesn't know the full situation and she's going to cause problems for both of you.
Don't trust what she told you.*
I forwarded it to Sandra without responding.
Then another text, three minutes later: *There is a reason I moved that money.
It was to protect it.
If you'd just let me explain instead of running to lawyers, you'd understand.
You're making this harder than it needs to be.*
And then, six minutes after that, one more: *I did everything for this family for 32 years.
Everything.
You have no idea what I gave up.
Don't act like I'm the villain here.*
I read all three messages.
Then I put my phone face-down on Ruth's kitchen table and looked out the window at her garden, which was very ordinary and very quiet.
"He says he's not the villain," I said.
Ruth set a cup of tea in front of me.
"They always say that."
My phone buzzed one more time against the table.
It wasn't Adriel.
It was a number I didn't recognize — a different number from Carolyn's.
The message said: *This is Thomas.
Adriel's brother.
I walked out of that reception because I couldn't sit there and watch.
I should have said something sooner.
May you like
I have information you need.
Can we meet?*
