Chapter 3: What Carol Knew
"She's unstable," Grant said.
"She's been like this for months.
I didn't want to say it in front of people, but she needs help."
Diane didn't move closer.
She stayed exactly where she was, one step back, the bracelet still in her hand.
"Grant." Her voice had changed.
"That document has her signature on it."
"She signed it.
She doesn't remember signing it." He turned to the security officer.
"My wife has been under a lot of stress.
She's confused."
The officer looked at Megan.
Megan looked back at him calmly.
"I have never signed a separation agreement.
I didn't know one existed until sixty seconds ago."
"She's lying," Grant said.
"She does this."
The officer held up one hand.
"Sir.
Ma'am.
I need both of you to step to the side."
Megan stepped aside.
Grant didn't move immediately.
He was still watching her — the way a person watches something they're trying to control from a distance.
Megan pressed call on Carol's name.
It rang once.
"Megan." Carol's voice was tight.
"Where are you?"
"Westfield Commons.
Outside Harlow Jewelers." She kept her eyes on Grant.
"Tell me what you found."
A pause.
Then: "I went to his office last Tuesday to drop off those tax documents you asked me to bring.
His assistant let me in because he was running late.
There was a folder on his desk.
I shouldn't have looked, but the tab said your name."
"What was in it?"
"Megan, there were two copies of a separation agreement.
Both signed.
One with your signature, one with his." Carol's breath caught.
"But there was something else underneath.
A property transfer document.
For the house."
Megan's chest tightened.
"What kind of transfer?"
"It had already been filed, Megan.
Three weeks ago.
The house is in a holding company now.
Not in your name.
Not in his.
In a company I've never heard of."
Grant was watching her face.
He saw something shift in it, and his jaw tightened.
"What's the company called?" Megan asked.
"Aldren Capital Group."
Megan lowered the phone slightly.
"Grant.
What is Aldren Capital Group?"
His expression didn't change.
But his right hand moved — just slightly — toward his jacket pocket.
"That's none of your business."
"It's my house."
"It was our house.
And everything was handled legally."
Diane turned to look at him fully.
"You told me you owned that property outright.
You said it was part of what you were bringing into the marriage."
Grant's attention snapped to her.
"Diane.
Stop talking."
"You showed me a valuation.
You said it was worth four hundred thousand dollars."
"I said stop talking."
The security officer stepped forward.
"Sir, lower your voice."
Megan raised the phone back to her ear.
"Carol.
Stay on the line."
She looked at the document in her hand again.
The signature.
Her name, in ink, on a page she had never touched.
She had seen her own handwriting every day for thirty-nine years.
The loop on the g.
The way the k leaned slightly right.
This was close.
Very close.
But it wasn't hers.
"Grant," she said quietly.
"Who signed this?"
He said nothing.
"Who forged my name on a legal document?"
A woman near the jewelry store entrance had her phone out.
She wasn't pretending to shop anymore.
Grant leaned in close enough that only Megan could hear him.
"You are going to put that phone away, hand that document back to Diane, and we are going to walk out of here together.
And then we are going to talk about this at home like adults."
Megan didn't move.
"Or," he said, "I will make the next six months of your life very difficult."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she raised her voice just enough for the officer to hear.
"I'd like to file a report.
I believe this document contains a forged signature."
Grant's face went still.
May you like
Carol's voice came through the phone, small and clear: "Megan.
There's one more thing I didn't tell you yet."
