Chapter 6: The Second Account
The company was called Calloway Property Solutions Ltd.
It had been registered eighteen months ago with Ethan listed as sole director.
The registered address was a serviced office in the city center — the kind that exists only on paper, used by people who need an address without needing a room.
Gerald had the filing documents on his laptop within the hour.
Ethan sat beside him and went through every page.
"I've never seen this," Ethan said.
"I didn't sign this."
"The signature on the incorporation form," Gerald said, "is a reasonable copy of yours.
Not perfect.
But reasonable."
"She had access to documents with my signature on them," Ethan said.
"Insurance forms.
The car registration.
Things I signed at the kitchen table."
"That will matter to the investigation."
Reeves had been updated by phone.
She called back within twenty minutes.
"Mr.
Calloway," she said — she was speaking to Ethan now, who had agreed to answer questions voluntarily — "the company account received nine transfers over a period of sixteen months.
Total amount: two hundred and forty thousand pounds."
Ethan said nothing.
"Of that amount, two hundred and thirty-one thousand has been moved on to a third account.
We're working to trace it now."
"I didn't authorize any of this," Ethan said.
"I understand that's your position.
We'll need a formal statement and a handwriting sample for the signature comparison."
"Whatever you need."
After the call, Ethan sat with his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.
Sasha had taken the baby to the spare room to feed her.
Her sister had made tea — quietly, without being asked, moving around my kitchen like someone who understood that the best thing she could do was make herself useful and stay out of the way.
I was grateful for it.
"She was going to let me go to prison," Ethan said.
"She was going to make it look like you'd stolen from your own marriage," I said.
"When the divorce finalized and the missing money was discovered, every document would have pointed to you."
"And she would have walked away."
"With whatever she hadn't already spent, yes."
He lifted his head.
"How long have you known?"
"I started finding the discrepancies eight months ago.
Small ones at first.
I thought it was accounting errors.
Then I pulled the full statements and traced the transfer pattern." I paused.
"I contacted Gerald six months ago.
We've been building the referral file since then."
Ethan stared at me.
"Six months."
"Yes."
"You stayed."
"I needed the file to be complete.
If I'd confronted her too early, she would have moved the money again and covered the trail."
He was quiet for a moment.
"You weren't sick by accident tonight, were you."
It wasn't quite a question.
"I've had a fever for two days," I said.
"That part was real.
But I also knew you were planning to serve the papers this week.
Patricia had been accelerating the timeline.
I wanted to be here when it happened."
"So you let me come home to no dinner.
Let me make the speech.
Let me hand you the papers."
"I let you show me exactly what you believed about me.
And I let Patricia show me the same." I looked at him steadily.
"I needed to know how far it had gone."
He absorbed that.
"The two people at the door," he said.
"You'd already called them."
"Gerald and Reeves were parked at the end of the road.
I texted Gerald when Patricia started laughing."
Ethan let out a long breath.
"She always said you were cold.
Calculating."
"She was describing herself."
He nodded slowly.
Outside, a car passed.
The house was very quiet.
"Ethan," I said.
"The handwriting sample and the voluntary statement — do them tomorrow morning.
First thing.
Don't wait for Patricia's solicitor to start shaping the narrative."
"I know."
"And get your own legal representation.
Not someone Patricia has ever recommended."
"I know that too." He stood.
Looked around the room that had been his home and was now, in every legal sense, mine.
"Where do I go tonight?"
I considered that.
"There's a hotel on Merchant Street.
Gerald can call ahead." I paused.
"You're not being thrown out, Ethan.
But you can't stay here tonight."
He nodded.
Picked up his coat.
Stopped at the doorway.
"For what it's worth," he said, "I think I stopped seeing you a long time ago.
I don't know exactly when.
But I think she had something to do with that too."
I didn't answer.
He left through the front door, and I listened to his footsteps on the path, and then the gate, and then nothing.
Gerald appeared from the study.
"Reeves has just sent another update."
"Already?"
"They traced the third account." He paused.
"It's in Spain.
Registered to a property holding company.
The named beneficiary is Patricia Calloway." He looked up from his phone.
"There's a villa."
I sat down.
A villa.
Fourteen months of transfers.
A forged company in Ethan's name.
A young woman handed a pre-signed document and told it was a formality.
Seven years.
"Gerald," I said.
"How solid is the case?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Very."
I nodded once.
In the spare room, I could hear Sasha speaking softly to the baby.
Clara.
May you like
A small voice in a house full of wreckage, entirely unaware of any of it.
"Then let's finish it," I said.
