Chapter 6: The Call He Wasn't Supposed to Make
"Hey." His voice was easy.
Unhurried.
"Where are you?"
"Running errands," I said.
"Same as yesterday."
"Which errands?"
A small shift.
The question was casual but the repetition wasn't.
"Dry cleaning.
A few things at the pharmacy." I kept my voice level.
"Why?"
"Marta thought she saw your car near the Riverside Coffee on Clement Street." A pause.
"That's a bit out of the way, isn't it."
Marta.
I stood very still in the parking lot.
"I tried somewhere new," I said.
"Their coffee is better."
"Hm." He let the sound sit for a moment.
"You've seemed distracted the last couple of days, Claire.
I just want to make sure everything's all right."
"Everything's fine, Julian.
I'm just tired."
"You're not worried about anything?"
"Should I be?"
A beat of silence.
"No," he said.
"Of course not.
I'll see you tonight."
He ended the call.
I got into the car and sat with the engine off.
Marta had seen me.
Or she had seen my car.
Either way, Julian now knew I had been at that coffee shop, and he was curious enough to call within the hour.
I drove to Daniel's office without stopping.
His assistant waved me straight through.
I put the manila envelope on his desk.
Then the printed screenshots of the fabricated messages.
Then the photograph I had taken of the apartment lease.
Daniel read without speaking.
When he reached paragraph fourteen of Helga's document, he stopped and read it again.
"This was drafted by a real attorney," he said finally.
"I know."
"Which means someone paid for this.
Someone planned it carefully enough to hire counsel." He set the pages down.
"Claire, this document was not put together in response to an unexpected pregnancy.
This was prepared in advance."
I had reached the same conclusion in the parking lot.
"How far in advance?" I asked.
"The formatting, the clause structure — this took time.
Weeks, possibly months." He looked at me.
"When did Sophie say the pregnancy became known to Julian's family?"
"He told Helga the day after Sophie told him.
She was about three months along at that point."
"So Helga had this drafted within the first trimester." Daniel leaned back.
"That's not a grandmother protecting a grandchild.
That's a woman who saw an opportunity and moved immediately."
"What can we do with it?"
"Several things." He turned the document over.
"First, Sophie needs independent counsel today — I can refer her to someone I trust.
Second, the fabricated messages are potentially a serious legal matter.
Impersonating someone in written communication to induce another party to enter a legal arrangement — that's fraud, Claire.
That's not a civil matter.
That's crjminal."
The word landed quietly in the room.
"What about the hidden account?" I asked.
"The investment account in Julian's name alone — opened during the marriage, funded during the marriage.
In this state, that's a marital asset regardless of whose name is on it.
The fact that he concealed it is relevant to any divorce proceeding." He paused.
"And the apartment lease."
"Four miles from our house.
Eight months."
"Paid from where?
Do you know?"
"I don't.
But the account number will be on the lease."
Daniel made a note.
"We'll find out."
I looked at the document on his desk.
Eleven pages.
Helga's handwriting on the envelope.
A notary appointment on Friday that was never going to happen.
"Julian called me twenty minutes ago," I said.
"His sister saw my car near the coffee shop where I met Sophie."
Daniel's pen stopped.
"Does he know you met her?"
"I don't think so.
Not yet.
But he's watching."
"Then we move the timeline." He straightened the papers into a stack.
"I want to file the initial divorce petition by end of day Friday.
Before the notary appointment.
Before Julian has any reason to believe you're prepared." He looked at me directly.
"Once that petition is filed, any attempt to transfer assets or execute that document becomes legally complicated for them.
It doesn't stop everything, but it changes the landscape significantly."
"And Helga?"
"Helga is a separate matter.
But a related one." He slid the document into a folder.
"Let me make some calls this afternoon."
I stood to leave.
"Daniel," I said.
"The fabricated messages.
If it goes where you're suggesting — the crjminal direction — who is that aimed at?
Julian or Helga?"
He considered the question.
"Whoever drafted the messages," he said.
"And whoever directed them to be drafted."
I thought about Julian on the phone an hour ago.
His easy voice.
His careful questions.
"He's not careless enough to have done it himself," I said.
"No," Daniel agreed.
"He isn't."
I left his office and sat in my car for a long moment.
Then I drove home, made a pot of tea, and sat at the kitchen table with my hands around the mug.
Julian's key turned in the lock at six-fifteen.
"Good day?" he asked, dropping his bag.
"Quiet," I said.
"Yours?"
"Busy." He came into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
"I was thinking we could go to my parents' Sunday.
Marta mentioned she hasn't seen you properly in a while."
I took a slow sip of tea.
"Of course," I said.
"Sunday works."
He smiled and turned back to the refrigerator.
He had no idea that by Sunday, everything would already be in motion.
But there was one thing I hadn't accounted for.
When I went upstairs to change, I found the filing cabinet drawer in Julian's office standing open by two inches.
I had closed it.
I was certain I had closed it.
May you like
I stood in the doorway and looked at it for a long moment.
Then I went downstairs and finished my tea.
