Chapter 6: What the Account Was For
I called Carol at seven the next morning.
"I need you to look something up," I said before she'd finished saying hello.
"Good morning to you too.
Did you sleep?"
"Two hours.
Carol, listen.
I need you to search a company name for me.
Property management.
I want to know if it's registered, who owns it, what it holds."
I heard her sit up in bed.
"What happened?"
"I'll explain everything.
Can you write this down?"
She found a pen.
I read her the company name from the photograph Karen had sent.
Carol repeated it back to me, spelled it out, read it again.
"Give me an hour," she said.
"Thank you."
I showered and dressed and made coffee and did not look at my phone until Carol called back at eight twenty-three.
"It's registered," she said.
"Eighteen months old.
Single director."
"Who?"
"The director listed is a woman named Nicole Marsh."
I set my coffee cup down.
"Nicole," I said.
"Is that—"
"The woman from the hospital.
Yes."
Carol was quiet for a moment.
"Laura.
He wasn't just having an affair.
He was building something.
With her.
While he was still living with you."
"Using money from our joint income."
"Can you prove the transfers came from joint funds?"
"I have a photograph of the transfer records.
And I have the person who found them."
"Who?"
"A colleague of his.
Karen.
She contacted me last night."
Another pause.
"Daniel told people at his office that you'd already agreed to move out."
"I know.
Karen told me that too."
"He was setting the story before you even knew the full story."
"Yes."
I heard Carol exhale slowly.
"You need a solicitor today.
Not tomorrow.
Today."
"I know."
"I can come with you."
"I know that too."
I hung up and sat at the kitchen table with my coffee going cold.
The morning light came through the window the same way it always had.
The chair across from me was empty.
The water glass Daniel hadn't touched was still there.
I hadn't moved it.
I picked up my phone and called a family law solicitor whose name I had looked up at two in the morning.
Her office opened at nine.
I left a message asking for the earliest available appointment.
She called back at nine fifteen.
"Mrs.
Bennett," she said.
"I have a cancellation at eleven this morning.
Can you make that?"
"Yes," I said.
"I'll be there."
Her name was Patricia Hale.
Her office was on the fourth floor of a building in the town centre, and she had the kind of stillness that made you feel, the moment you sat down, that you were not the first person to walk through her door carrying something like this.
I told her everything.
The hospital.
The birth certificate.
The insurance.
The address on the form.
The phone.
Karen's message.
The transfers.
The property company registered in Nicole's name.
Patricia took notes without interrupting.
When I finished, she looked up.
"Do you have the photograph Karen sent you?"
I showed her on my phone.
She looked at it carefully.
"This is useful," she said.
"It's not conclusive on its own, but it establishes a pattern.
Combined with the insurance change and the dependent enrollment, we have a clear picture of financial preparation that predates his disclosure to you."
"He was getting ready to leave," I said.
"He just hadn't told me yet."
"He was getting ready to leave while continuing to benefit from the marital home and your shared finances." She set her pen down.
"Mrs.
Bennett, I want to be direct with you.
The financial conduct here — the account, the transfers, the company — this is not simply infidelity.
This may constitute deliberate dissipation of marital assets.
That changes what you're entitled to."
I looked at her.
"How much does it change?"
"Significantly," she said.
"If we can trace those transfers back to joint income, and if that property company holds real assets, then those assets may be considered part of the marital estate."
"Even though they're in her name?"
"If they were funded with marital money, yes.
It becomes more complicated, but not impossible." She picked up her pen again.
"I'll need you to gather everything you can access.
Bank statements.
Shared accounts.
Any paperwork connected to the household finances."
"I can do that."
"And your witness — Karen.
Would she be willing to provide a formal statement?"
"I don't know yet.
I'll ask her."
Patricia nodded.
"Ask her soon.
People's willingness to get involved has a way of changing once the other party becomes aware that proceedings have started."
I thought about Daniel.
About the way he had stood up in that kitchen last night — not aggressively, just repositioning.
Preparing.
"He'll know I've seen a solicitor," I said.
"Yes.
Probably by end of day, if he has any sense."
"And then?"
May you like
Patricia looked at me steadily.
"Then he'll start preparing too."
