Chapter 4: The Meeting He Was Never Supposed to Know About
Diane's office was on the fourteenth floor of a building on Congress Avenue, with a view of the Capitol dome through the east-facing window.
I had been there three times before — once when I incorporated my second salon, once when I updated my will, and once, eighteen months ago, when I first told her I thought something was wrong in my marriage.
She had listened that day without interrupting.
When I finished, she said, "Keep your records separate.
All of them." I had done exactly that.
Grace Holloway was already seated when I arrived.
She was in her early fifties, with close-cropped silver hair and reading glasses pushed up on her forehead.
She had a yellow legal pad in front of her and a pen in her hand and she looked like someone who had heard a great many difficult things and had stopped being surprised by any of them.
"Elena," Diane said.
"This is Grace."
"I've read the summary Diane sent me last night," Grace said.
She didn't waste time on pleasantries.
"I want to ask you some questions and I need completely straight answers.
Can you do that?"
"Yes," I said.
"Did you ever sign any document related to a loan, a collateral agreement, or a personal guarantee in the last eighteen months?"
"No."
"Did you ever give Julian verbal permission to use your business assets as security for any financial instrument?"
"No."
"Did you ever discuss with him the possibility of borrowing against the salon business?"
"He didn't know what the business was worth," I said.
"He never asked."
Grace wrote something on her pad.
"That's actually important.
It suggests he had to research the asset value independently, which means the act was premeditated.
He didn't stumble into this."
Diane slid a printed page across the table to me.
"We also found this.
It was filed with the county clerk's office eleven weeks ago."
I looked at the page.
It was a property lien notice.
Against our home.
"He filed a lien on the house?" I said.
"A creditor did," Diane said.
"The same private equity firm that issued the loan.
Julian missed the first two payments."
I set the page down.
"He took out a loan he couldn't repay, secured it with my business and our home, and has already defaulted twice."
"That's correct," Grace said.
"Which means if you had not discovered this, the lender would have had legal grounds to move against your business within sixty to ninety days."
The room was quiet for a moment.
"He was going to let them take my salons," I said.
Neither attorney answered.
They didn't need to.
"What are my options?" I asked.
Grace leaned forward.
"The forged signatures give us grounds for criminal referral.
I can take the document examiner's report to the DA's office.
Separately, Diane can file for emergency injunctive relief to freeze any assets Julian controls that are tied to your business.
That stops any further movement of funds immediately."
"How long does the injunction take?"
"If we file today, a judge could grant a temporary order by end of week."
I thought about the five days I had given Julian.
We were now on day two.
"File today," I said.
Diane was already reaching for her phone.
"There's one more thing," Grace said.
She turned her legal pad around so I could read what she had written.
A name.
"Do you know who this is?"
I looked at the name.
Thomas Vance.
I had heard Julian mention it once, at a dinner party, two years ago.
A friend from his pharmaceutical company days.
Someone senior.
"Vaguely," I said.
"Why?"
"Thomas Vance is listed as a director of the Nevada LLC that received the two-hundred-thousand-dollar transfer," Grace said.
"He and Julian have a history that predates your marriage.
And he has two prior civil judgments against him for financial misconduct in other states."
I looked at her.
"Julian didn't do this alone."
"That," Grace said, capping her pen, "is what I intend to find out."
I drove home that afternoon to find Julian in the kitchen, jacket on, keys in hand, heading out.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
He glanced at my hair — the uneven cut, the jagged ends — and a small smile crossed his face.
"Meeting.
Don't wait up."
He walked past me without touching me.
The front door closed.
I stood in the kitchen and listened to his car back out of the driveway.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Diane: *Injunction filed.
4:47 p.m.*
I set my phone face-down on the counter.
Three days left.
Then my phone buzzed again.
A different number.
Unknown.
I picked it up.
The text read: *Elena.
My name is Thomas Vance.
We need to talk before this goes any further.
May you like
Julian doesn't know I'm contacting you.
Please call me.*
