Chapter 3
Patricia arrived an hour later with a forensic accountant named Ray.
They spread documents across my dining table.
The HELOC application. The deed. My credit report. Bank statements.
Ray worked fast.
"Claire, this application has your signature. A very good forgery. They also submitted a fake power of attorney. And look at this—three credit cards opened in your name in the last six months. Total balance: $48,000."
I felt sick.
"Six months? They've been doing this for six months?"
"Longer, probably. Let me check further back."
Patricia put a hand on my shoulder.
"We'll find everything. But right now, I need you to focus. Do you want to file for divorce?"
I looked around my house.
The kitchen they had rearranged. The dining table Margaret had claimed. The rug she had dripped on.
Six years of marriage.
Six years of being the quiet one.
"Yes," I said. "I want a divorce. And I want every dollar back."
Patricia nodded.
"Then we move fast. Before they can hide anything."
We filed for divorce the next morning.
We also filed a police report for forgery, identity theft, and fraud.
We froze every account. We put a fraud alert on my credit. We notified the bank.
By noon, the HELOC application was denied and flagged.
By three, the credit cards were frozen.
By five, Daniel was calling me.
I didn't answer.
He texted.
Claire, this is a misunderstanding. Let me explain. Mom went behind my back. I had no idea.
I showed it to Patricia.
"He knew," she said. "He's just trying to get in front of it. Don't respond."
That night, I slept in my own bed. Alone.
And for the first time in six years, I didn't have to listen to Margaret snoring down the hall.
I didn't have to smell Vanessa's cigarettes on the balcony.
I didn't have to listen to Todd yelling at his sports games.
It was quiet.
It was mine.
And I cried.
May you like
Not because I missed them.
Because I couldn't believe I had let it go on for so long.
