Chapter 6: The Money Behind the Marriage
Daniel Price called again at 6:40 p.m.
This time, I answered on the first ring.
“Tell me what you know.””
“I need to be careful,” he said.
“Vincent is my employer, and some of the documents I saw are confidential.””
“Then don't share anything you're not authorized to share. But if you have a legitimate concern about financial misconduct, you can tell my attorney what you personally observed.””
He was quiet for a moment.
“You sound exactly like Vincent said you would.””
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What did he say about me?””
“That you were difficult to negotiate with. That you asked too many questions about the finances.””
I closed my eyes.
For years, I had trusted Vincent to manage the investments he said were part of our long-term plan.
I worked long shifts.
He handled the bills, the mortgage payments, and the financial paperwork.
I had never considered that our division of responsibilities might become a way to keep me uninformed.
“What did you see, Daniel?””
“A draft agreement. It concerned an account linked to a business entity Vincent controls.””
“Was my name on it?””
“Yes.””
“Was Vanessa's?””
Another pause.
“Yes.””
I stood up so quickly that my chair slid backward.
“Why would both our names be on the same agreement?””
“I don't know what the final arrangement was supposed to be. I only saw a draft.””
“Did you keep a copy?””
“No. I wasn't authorized to take one.””
“Then I don't want you to do anything that could get you into trouble. Please contact Rebecca Collins. She can tell you how to provide information lawfully.””
“I was hoping you would say that.””
I gave him Rebecca's office number.
Before ending the call, Daniel spoke again.
“Dr. Moretti, there is something else.””
“What?””
“Vincent asked me to prepare a timeline of his financial contributions to your household. He said it was for an upcoming legal matter.””
My stomach tightened.
“An upcoming legal matter?””
“He didn't specify. But he wanted records going back five years.””
Five years.
The entire length of our marriage.
“Did he mention divorce?””
“No. He said he needed to establish which assets were his before any formal negotiations began.””
I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.
“He was preparing for a divorce before last night?””
“I can't say that for certain.””
Neither could I.
But the possibility settled over me like a heavy blanket.
I had believed that hiring Rebecca meant I was finally taking control of my future.
What if Vincent had been preparing for the same possibility long before I discovered Vanessa?
What if the financial secrecy wasn't simply about maintaining a double life?
What if it was about making sure I would have fewer choices when the truth came out?
I thanked Daniel and ended the call.
Then I contacted Rebecca.
She answered while I was still gathering my thoughts.
“Claire, I received the photograph of the letter.””
“Someone from Vincent's company just called me. His name is Daniel Price. He says Vincent was preparing financial documents connected to our marriage.””
“Did he provide any documents?””
“No. He says he saw a draft agreement and a financial timeline, but he didn't keep copies.””
“Did he agree to speak with me?””
“Yes. I gave him your number.””
“Good. I'll arrange a conversation and make sure he understands the appropriate boundaries.””
I paced the kitchen.
“Rebecca, what if Vincent has been preparing for this for months?””
“Then we need to determine what he actually did, not what we fear he might have done.””
“What if he moved money?””
“We'll request the appropriate disclosures and examine the records. We won't accuse him of misconduct without evidence.””
I stopped beside the dining table.
“And if the money is gone?””
“Then we'll determine where it went and what legal options are available. But I need you to remember something: uncertainty isn't proof that you've lost everything.””
I swallowed.
“I'm trying.””
“I know. Now, have you eaten anything today?””
I glanced at the untouched plate beside the sink.
“No.””
“Please eat something. And keep your obstetric appointment tomorrow.””
I almost smiled.
“You sound like my doctor.””
“Your doctor would probably give you the same advice.””
After we hung up, I heated soup and forced myself to eat half of it.
Then I sat on the sofa with a blanket over my legs and called my obstetrician's office to confirm the appointment.
The pregnancy was still too early for me to know whether everything was progressing normally.
I had spent years imagining how I would share this news with Vincent.
I had never imagined making the appointment alone while trying to determine whether he had hidden marital assets.
But I was doing it.
One decision at a time.
At 8:15 p.m., Vanessa sent me another message.
*Vincent came back to the apartment. He wants to know what I told you.*
I immediately called her.
“Are you safe?””
“Yes. I'm still at the hospital, but he came by earlier to collect some things.””
“Did you tell him about the documents?””
“No. I told him I was tired and didn't want to argue.””
“Good. Don't confront him. Let Rebecca know if he threatens you or tries to pressure you into signing anything.””
“I will.””
She hesitated.
“Claire, he asked me whether I had spoken to you.””
“What did you say?””
“I told him I hadn't.””
I exhaled slowly.
“Thank you for telling me.””
“I know you don't owe me anything, but I don't want him to keep lying to us.””
Neither did I.
Yet the more information I received, the more I understood how little I actually knew.
“Vanessa, do you remember the name of the company connected to the account?””
She checked something on her phone.
“Northbridge Holdings.””
I wrote it down.
“Are you certain?””
“Yes. It was printed on the first page of the document.””
I sent the name to Rebecca.
Her reply came several minutes later.
*We'll investigate through appropriate channels. Please don't search his private accounts or attempt to access company records.*
I set my phone aside.
Northbridge Holdings.
The name meant nothing to me.
But Vincent had never mentioned it during our financial discussions.
I wondered whether the company was legitimate, whether it held investments, or whether it was simply another layer between him and the truth.
I couldn't answer those questions.
So I focused on the facts I did have.
A lease showing that Vincent and Vanessa had shared an apartment for ten months.
A financial document bearing both women's names.
A letter Vincent had written before my miscarriage.
A colleague who said Vincent had been preparing financial records for a possible legal dispute.
And a husband who had suddenly become desperate to control what I knew.
The next morning, I went to my obstetric appointment.
The office was quiet because of the holiday schedule.
My doctor reviewed my dates, asked about my symptoms, and explained what we could reasonably expect to see this early in the pregnancy.
When the examination was complete, she gave me a careful smile.
“It's early, Claire. We'll need follow-up to assess how the pregnancy is progressing, but right now, the most important thing is to take care of yourself.””
I nodded.
I knew the medical explanation.
I had given versions of it to countless patients.
Hearing it about my own child was different.
I sat in the parking lot afterward, holding the appointment summary in my hands.
I wanted to feel only happiness.
Instead, I felt fear, relief, and grief all at once.
I placed the paper carefully in my bag.
Then I whispered, “One day at a time.””
At noon, Rebecca called.
“I've spoken briefly with Daniel,” she said.
“He is willing to provide a statement about what he personally observed. We haven't verified the underlying documents yet, but his account gives us specific questions to pursue.””
“What questions?””
“Whether any marital funds were transferred into a business entity, whether you were listed on accounts you didn't know existed, and whether Vincent has made financial representations that conflict with the records.””
I closed my eyes.
“So I wasn't imagining the money disappearing.””
“You weren't imagining the unexplained transactions. We still need to establish what they mean.””
“What happens next?””
“We'll prepare the appropriate requests for disclosure. If the records support further action, we'll address that through the court.””
I stared through the windshield at the winter sunlight.
“And the letter?””
“I want to review the entire document before we draw conclusions. Vanessa should preserve it and avoid giving Vincent any reason to destroy or alter relevant records. We'll advise her on the proper next steps.””
“Can you tell me anything about the first page?””
Rebecca paused.
“The language suggests Vincent knew he was withholding important information from you. But it doesn't establish what that information was.””
I gripped the steering wheel.
“Could it be about our marriage?””
“It could be. It could also concern financial matters. We need the rest.””
I thanked her and ended the call.
For several minutes, I sat in silence.
Then I received an email from an unfamiliar address.
There was no greeting.
No explanation.
Only one attachment.
The subject line read:
*For Claire Moretti — Please Read Before Signing Anything.*
My heartbeat quickened.
I opened the email cautiously.
The message contained a single sentence.
Your husband has been preparing for the possibility that you will leave him, and the documents he has drafted may not mean what he told you they meant.
I stared at the words.
Whoever had sent it knew about the divorce.
They knew about the documents.
And they knew enough to warn me not to sign anything.
I forwarded the message to Rebecca without opening the attachment.
Her reply arrived almost immediately.
*Do not open it yet. I'll examine the sender and attachment through appropriate security procedures.*
I set the phone down.
The room felt unnaturally quiet.
I thought about Vincent's expression when Rebecca had handed him the divorce notice.
His disbelief.
His anger.
His desperate insistence that we weren't finished.
Had he been afraid of losing me?
Or had he been afraid of what I might discover once I stopped trusting him?
I couldn't know.
Not yet.
At 2:17 p.m., Rebecca called again.
“The attachment appears to be a document, but I haven't verified its contents or authenticity. I'll have it reviewed safely.””
“Do you know who sent it?””
“Not yet.””
I looked down at my abdomen.
I had spent years believing that love meant trusting Vincent even when I didn't understand him.
Now I was learning that trust without honesty could leave a person defenseless.
I wasn't going to make that mistake again.
“Rebecca?””
“Yes?””
“If these documents prove he moved money without my knowledge, I want to pursue every lawful option available.””
“We will.””
“And I don't want him told about my pregnancy until we've discussed the safest and most appropriate timing.””
“Understood. We'll handle that carefully.””
After the call, I stood by the window.
Snow fell softly over the street.
Christmas was over, but the decorations remained in neighboring windows, glowing against the gray afternoon.
My husband had brought his pregnant mistress into my emergency department believing he could keep his two lives separate.
He had never known that I was carrying his child.
He had never imagined that I would choose to leave him.
And now someone was warning me that the financial documents connected to our marriage might be more dangerous than I understood.
I looked at the phone again.
Rebecca had sent a final message.
*We may have a way to establish what Vincent was planning, but I need you to be prepared for what the records could reveal.*
I read it twice.
Then I placed the phone on the table and took a slow breath.
I had spent months searching for the moment my marriage had begun to fall apart.
Perhaps I had been asking the wrong question.
The real question wasn't when Vincent stopped telling me the truth.
It was how much of my life he had already rearranged while I was still believing his promises.
And somewhere in the documents he had hidden, there might finally be an answer.
Before I could find it, however, I needed to understand one thing.
May you like
Why had someone who knew Vincent's secrets decided that Christmas was the moment to warn me?
And what were they so afraid I would sign?`}</text>
