Chapter 3: The Woman in the Hotel Suite
Darcy didn't say the name in front of Julian.
She waited until he and Eleanor had stepped outside — Julian muttering something about calling his own lawyer, Eleanor gripping his arm and whispering furiously into his ear.
The moment the door closed, Darcy set her phone on the table between us and turned the screen toward me.
The name on Julian's incoming message was saved as a contact.
Two words.
A first name and a last initial.
*Renata V.*
"Do you know that name?" Darcy asked.
I looked at it for a moment.
"No."
"The hotel suite," Darcy said.
"The one booked under Julian's name on the nights he said he was working late.
We pulled the reservation records this morning." She slid a printed page across the table.
"It was always booked for two guests.
The second guest registered under that name every time."
I picked up the page.
Seven separate reservations over four months.
Same hotel.
Same suite number.
Same second name.
"How long have you had this?" I asked.
"Since last night.
I didn't want to show you until I was certain."
I set the page down.
My hands were steady.
I noticed that and found it strange.
"Who is she?"
Darcy folded her hands.
"That's what I want to find out before we go any further.
But there's something else." She pulled another document from the folder — thinner, just two pages.
"The forty thousand Julian withdrew from your emergency fund.
We traced where it went."
"And?"
"Three transfers.
The first two went to a private account we haven't fully identified yet.
The third—" she tapped the bottom of the page— "went to a property deposit."
I looked at the address.
It wasn't our house.
It wasn't anywhere near our neighborhood.
"He was buying another property," I said.
"Attempting to.
The purchase didn't complete.
The seller pulled out six weeks ago." Darcy paused.
"But the deposit was never returned."
The room was very quiet.
"He was going to buy a second property," I said slowly, "using money from our emergency fund, and he never told me."
"No."
"And the deposit is gone."
"Yes."
I sat back in my chair.
Outside the office window, I could hear Julian's voice rising in the corridor.
He was on his phone.
His tone had the particular edge it got when he felt cornered — sharp, slightly too loud, performing confidence for whoever was listening.
Darcy glanced toward the sound.
"He's calling someone."
"His lawyer, probably."
"Maybe." She looked at me.
"Or Renata."
I thought about the way Julian's face had changed when his phone buzzed.
Not embarrassment.
Not guilt.
Fear.
The kind of fear that comes when two separate lies are suddenly standing in the same room.
"I want to know who she is," I said.
"I'll have an answer by tomorrow morning."
"And the property deposit?"
"That's recoverable.
It went out of a joint account — which means it's marital funds regardless of who authorized the transfer.
We can move on that quickly."
I nodded.
I picked up my coffee cup.
It had gone cold.
"Darcy," I said.
"Is there anything else in that folder I haven't seen yet?"
She looked at me for just a moment too long before she answered.
"Yes," she said.
"But I want to verify one more thing before I show you.
Give me until tomorrow."
I put the cup down.
"How bad is it?"
She didn't answer immediately.
She closed the blue folder and set both hands flat on top of it.
"Sloan," she said carefully.
"How much do you know about the company Julian said he was starting before his first business collapsed?"
I stared at her.
"He told me it never got off the ground."
Darcy's expression didn't change.
May you like
But something behind her eyes did.
"Give me until tomorrow," she said again.
