Chapter 4: The Woman on the Other Side of the Lie
I met Penelope the next morning at a coffee shop on Miracle Mile, far enough from Coral Gables that neither of us was likely to be seen.
She was already there when I arrived.
No makeup.
Hair pulled back.
She looked younger than she had at the wedding — and considerably less certain of herself.
I sat down across from her and said nothing.
She wrapped both hands around her coffee cup.
"I know you have no reason to trust me."
"None at all."
"I met Spencer eighteen months ago at a fundraiser.
He told me he was separated.
That the marriage had been over for years.
That you were business partners in name only and that the divorce was already in process."
"There was no divorce in process."
"I know that now." She looked up.
"I didn't know it then.
Or — I told myself I didn't."
I studied her face.
She wasn't performing.
Whatever she was carrying, it was real.
"The pregnancy," I said.
"Is it Spencer's?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"Yes."
"And does he know?"
"He knows.
He's known for three months." She set down her cup.
"Laura, the reason I called you — the reason I'm sitting here — is because of something I found two weeks ago.
I was looking for a copy of my lease renewal in Spencer's home office.
I found a folder.
Inside it was a document from a company called Crestline Development Partners."
My hands were still on the table.
"It was a transfer record," she said.
"Four hundred thousand dollars into a trust account.
My trust account.
I didn't set up that account.
I didn't sign anything.
I didn't know it existed until I saw my name on that paper."
"Someone set it up for you."
"Spencer set it up for me.
Without telling me.
And Laura —" She reached into her bag and placed a folded page on the table between us.
"My name isn't the only one in that folder."
I unfolded it.
It was a list.
Six names.
Six separate accounts.
Penelope's was third from the top.
I recognized the second name immediately.
Diane Marsh.
Spencer's former project manager.
She had left the company two years ago.
Spencer had told me she resigned to move back to Atlanta.
"Do you know who these other women are?" I asked.
"I know two of them.
We were all told the same thing.
Separated.
Marriage over.
Divorce in process." Her voice didn't shake, but her jaw tightened.
"He wasn't building a new life with me, Laura.
He was building a system."
I folded the paper and placed it in my own bag.
"Why are you telling me this?"
She looked at me steadily.
"Because I'm three months pregnant and the man I thought loved me has been running the same lie with at least five other women using money that belongs to you.
And because when this comes apart — and it will come apart — I don't want to be the one left holding nothing."
My coffee had gone cold.
I hadn't touched it.
"I'll need that folder," I said.
"I photographed everything before I put it back."
I looked at her for a long moment.
"Send the photographs to this number." I wrote Mr.
Miller's contact on a napkin and slid it across the table.
"Don't tell Spencer we met.
Don't tell Evelyn.
Don't tell anyone."
She nodded.
I stood up to leave.
Then I stopped.
"Penelope.
The child is not part of any of this.
Whatever happens — that doesn't change."
She didn't answer right away.
When she did, her voice was very quiet.
"Thank you."
Outside, the morning sun was already sharp and hot.
I sat in my car for a moment before starting the engine.
Spencer hadn't just betrayed me.
He had built an entire architecture of betrayal — and he had built it using my money, my company, and the years I had given him when he had nothing.
My phone buzzed.
Mr.
Miller.
*"Forensic accountant confirmed.
The Delaware transfers were booked as vendor payments to a shell.
Spencer's CFO co-signed two of the three.
His name is Raymond Chu."*
Raymond Chu had been Spencer's CFO for four years.
I had approved his hiring.
May you like
I started the engine.
There were more people in this than I had understood the night before.
