Chapter 7: Sandra
Ruth found out in forty-eight hours.
Sandra Oates was forty-one years old.
She lived in a suburb forty minutes from our house.
She worked in marketing.
She and Mark had met, as best as Ruth's investigator could determine, at a professional conference three years ago.
The $45,000 wire transfer to Mark's Delaware company was not a loan.
There was no promissory note, no repayment schedule, no documentation of any kind.
The investigator found no evidence of a business relationship between Sandra Oates and the Delaware company.
"She gave him $45,000," I said.
"It appears so," Ruth said.
"Why would she give him $45,000?"
Ruth looked at me steadily across her plain desk.
"The investigator found text messages," she said.
"Sandra Oates kept them.
She came forward voluntarily when the investigator made contact." Ruth paused.
"She believed she and Mark were in a relationship.
She believed he was planning to leave his marriage.
She gave him the $45,000 because he told her he needed it to cover expenses during the transition."
The transition.
"He told her he was leaving me," I said.
"He told her that approximately eighteen months ago.
He has continued to tell her that periodically since then." Ruth's voice was even and precise.
"She contacted the investigator because she has been waiting for eighteen months and she is angry.
She wants the money back."
I sat very still.
Three years.
For at least three years, while I was managing the household and signing tax returns and dismissing small things as minor, Mark had been maintaining a separate life forty minutes away.
He had taken $312,000 from our joint accounts.
He had hidden $580,000 total.
He had taken $45,000 from a woman he had promised to leave me for.
He had researched contesting my father's estate before my father was even gone.
And he was at home right now, in the gray sweatpants, looking at properties in Portugal.
"I want to file," I said.
"I thought you might." Ruth opened a folder.
"I have the petition ready.
I've been drafting it since the forensic report came in." She slid it across the desk.
"I want to walk you through the asset claims before you sign.
The $312,000 in marital asset dissipation is the strongest element.
The hidden accounts will be subject to full disclosure under discovery.
The $45,000 from Sandra Oates complicates his position considerably because it suggests he was using marital deception to solicit funds from a third party."
"What does that mean for the divorce?"
"It means his credibility is destroyed before we begin.
Any judge who sees this record will understand exactly what kind of financial picture Mark has been constructing." She looked at me.
"He will fight this.
I want you to be prepared for that."
"I know he will."
"He may try to claim the Delaware company was a legitimate investment vehicle.
He may argue the transfers were consensual marital financial decisions you were aware of.
He may try to use your signature on the joint tax returns to suggest shared knowledge."
"I was not aware of any of it."
"I know.
And Dennis's report documents the pattern in a way that makes that clear." She paused.
"But Mark will not go quietly.
He has too much to lose."
I looked at the petition on the desk.
Twenty-two years.
Two kids in college.
A kitchen table I had sat at ten thousand times.
A man who had touched my hand at dinner three nights ago and told me he was thinking about our future.
I picked up the pen.
"Where do I sign?" I said.
May you like
Ruth pointed to the first line.
My hand was steady.
