Chapter 5: The First Wife
The room didn't erupt.
It went the other direction — quieter, tighter, the way air feels before a storm closes in.
Maya's reaction was immediate and physical.
Her hand came up and pressed flat against her sternum, like she was trying to hold something in.
"That's—" she started.
"What happened to Harry's first wife?" Adele said.
"That has nothing to do with—"
"Maya." I hadn't used her name like that in fifteen years.
Direct.
No softness around it.
"Answer the question."
She looked at me.
Then at the phone in Adele's hand.
Then at the hundred and fifty people standing in absolute silence around us.
"Patricia left him," Maya said.
"Years before I met Harry.
It was a normal divorce."
"Was it?" Adele said.
"Yes."
"Then why does someone think we should ask about her?"
"I don't know who sent that message.
I don't know what they think they know."
"But you know something," Renee said from the side of the room.
She hadn't moved far.
She was watching Maya with the same precise attention she'd had since she was small.
Maya turned toward her.
"I know that Harry had a difficult first marriage," Maya said carefully.
"Patricia was unstable.
She made accusations.
None of them were proven."
"What kind of accusations?" I said.
"Financial ones." Maya's voice was controlled now.
She had found her footing again.
"She claimed Harry had hidden assets during the divorce.
Moved money.
She hired investigators.
Nothing came of it."
"Nothing came of it," I repeated.
"That's what I said."
"Or nothing could be proven," Adele said.
Maya looked at her daughter.
"You've decided I'm a villain," Maya said.
"I can see that.
And maybe I deserve some of that.
But Harry is not—"
"Harry made you sign a document abandoning your children," Adele said.
"Harry told you to cut off contact with six daughters under the age of ten.
Harry's first wife accused him of hiding money and then disappeared from the story." She paused.
"What exactly are you defending?"
Maya's mouth closed.
The silence stretched.
Then a woman near the back of the room raised her hand — not dramatically, just a small, uncertain gesture, like a student in a classroom.
Everyone turned.
She was perhaps sixty.
Gray-streaked hair.
A dark blue dress that suggested she had dressed carefully for this event but not expensively.
She looked like someone who had been sitting with a decision for a long time and had finally made it.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"I don't know most of you.
I came with the groom's family." She glanced at Daniel.
"I hope you'll forgive me for speaking."
Daniel nodded.
"Go ahead."
"My name is Patricia," the woman said.
The air in the room changed completely.
Maya went rigid.
"I'm Harry's first wife," Patricia said.
"And I sent that message."
She walked forward through the parted crowd.
She had a small bag over her shoulder.
She reached into it and removed a manila envelope, the kind that holds documents, and she held it in both hands.
"I've been trying to find the right moment for three years," she said.
"I didn't know about this wedding.
I didn't plan this.
I was invited by a mutual friend and I almost didn't come." She looked at Adele.
"But when I saw what you did with those photographs — when I heard what you said to her — I thought maybe today was the right day after all."
She held out the envelope.
Adele took it.
"What's in here?" Adele said.
"Bank records," Patricia said.
"From the year before our divorce.
And the year after." She looked at Maya.
"Harry didn't just hide money from me.
He moved it.
Into accounts that weren't in his name."
May you like
Maya said nothing.
"Some of those accounts," Patricia said quietly, "were in yours."
