Chapter 5 - I STOPPED BEING HIS WIFE
By sunrise, I had stopped thinking of Daniel as my husband.
Legally, he still was.
Emotionally, something had ended the instant the plate struck my head.
The nurse discharged me shortly after seven.
My friend Maya picked me up.
I had called her from the emergency room because I couldn't face going home alone.
Maya took one look at the bandage around my head and started crying.
I didn't.
Not yet.
She drove me to her townhouse in Alexandria.
I showered there.
When I removed my ruined blouse, I saw tiny dried specks of my own blood across the silk.
For some reason, that broke me more than the stitches had.
I sat on the bathroom floor and cried until there was nothing graceful or controlled left in me.
Maya sat outside the door.
She didn't tell me to calm down.
She didn't tell me Daniel loved me.
She didn't tell me marriage was complicated.
She simply stayed.
At nine, I called an attorney.
Her name was Ava Brooks.
She specialized in family law and protective orders.
Maya had used her during a custody dispute years earlier.
Ava spoke to me by video that morning.
She listened without interrupting while I told her everything.
When I finished, she said, “First, you are not returning to that apartment alone.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Second, do not communicate directly with Daniel.”
“Fine.”
“Third, preserve every message and send copies to a secure account he cannot access.”
I did that while we spoke.
Then Ava asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Do you want to remain married to him?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Ava nodded once.
“Then we proceed accordingly.”
There was something powerful about hearing the decision spoken aloud.
No negotiation.
No family meeting.
No counseling session arranged by Patricia.
No apology dinner.
No second chance.
I was done.
Ava explained that we would seek a protective order and begin preparing the divorce filing.
Then she asked about the apartment.
I told her I had bought it two years before meeting Daniel and still held title in my name alone.
“Did he contribute toward the purchase?”
“No.”
“Down payment?”
“No.”
“Major renovations?”
“No.”
“Do you have records?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Then I mentioned the documents police had found.
Ava's expression sharpened.
“What documents?”
I described the quitclaim paperwork.
I told her there were copies of my identification and something with what appeared to be my signature.
“Rachel, I need you to contact the lender that holds your mortgage.”
“Why?”
“Because if Daniel was preparing to transfer or encumber your property without your knowledge, we need to know whether anything was submitted.”
My hands became cold again.
I called the bank.
After multiple transfers, I reached someone in the fraud department.
I answered security questions.
The representative became unusually careful with her words.
“Ms. Hale, I do see a recent inquiry associated with your property.”
My maiden name was still on the deed.
“What kind of inquiry?”
“There was an application started approximately three weeks ago.”
“For what?”
“A home equity line.”
I stood up.
“I never applied for one.”
Silence.
Then the representative said, “The application lists Daniel Mercer as a co-applicant.”
“He isn't an owner.”
“I understand.”
“How much?”
The representative paused.
“Four hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars.”
I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.
The amount was nearly identical to what my apartment had gained in equity since I bought it.
“Was it approved?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Ownership verification raised questions.”
I closed my eyes.
Then she added something worse.
“There is also an uploaded document purporting to show a transfer of ownership interest.”
My voice came out almost as a whisper.
“With my signature?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Maya.
She knew from my face that everything had changed.
May you like
Daniel hadn't merely planned to pressure me.
Someone had already tried to forge their way into my home.
