Chapter 12 - THE FORENSIC ACCOUNTANT FOUND THE REAL NUMBER
The seventy-eight thousand dollars was not the real amount.
It was only the amount Brandon had failed to hide well.
The forensic accountant found more.
Much more.
Over three years, almost two hundred forty thousand dollars had moved through accounts connected to Brandon.
Some came from me.
Some came from Gertrude.
Some came from business credit.
Some came from loans opened using household information.
The accountant built a timeline.
Each year, the withdrawals increased.
Each year, Brandon became more confident.
And each year, I became busier at work.
That was not a coincidence.
He used my schedule as cover.
He knew I paid bills automatically.
He knew I trusted him.
He knew I assumed financial mistakes were mine because I was tired.
Worst of all, he knew I would hesitate to accuse him.
Because good wives trusted their husbands.
That belief had cost me more than money.
Evelyn called me into her office.
“There’s one more thing.”
I sat down.
“I hate when you say that.”
“I know.”
She handed me a document.
Life insurance.
My name was the insured person.
Brandon was the beneficiary.
I frowned.
“We both have policies.”
“Yes.”
“But this one is new.”
“How new?”
“Four months.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“Two million dollars.”
I stared at the page.
“Did he open this?”
“It appears so.”
“Can he do that?”
“Not legitimately without proper authorization and disclosure.”
My hands started shaking.
Evelyn immediately noticed.
“This does not mean what you’re thinking.”
I looked at her.
“It means he was making financial decisions around my life without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“But not necessarily anything more.”
“I understand.”
She waited.
“Do you?”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
I did.
I would not turn fear into fantasy.
I had enough real evidence.
I did not need to invent worse.
Still, I felt sick.
When I confronted Brandon, his response was almost casual.
“It was estate planning.”
“Without me?”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“When things settled down.”
I laughed.
“The official slogan of our marriage.”
He looked angry.
“You’re making everything sound sinister.”
“I don’t have to.”
I held up the document.
“The paperwork does that for me.”
That evening, I made my decision.
I called Evelyn.
“File for divorce.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Because of the insurance?”
“No.”
I looked toward Skylar’s room.
“Because I finally understand the pattern.”
“What pattern?”
“Brandon never believed I was a partner.”
I looked at my wedding ring.
“He believed I was an asset.”
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The next morning, I removed the ring.
This time, I did not cry.
