Chapter 2: The Wife He Was Trying to Erase
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The dining room looked exactly as it had an hour earlier.
White roses.
Silver cutlery.
Two candles.
A beautifully roasted turkey cooling beneath the kitchen lights.
But the life I had believed I was living had disappeared.
“Mentally incompetent?”” I repeated.
Marcus released Vanessa's wrist.
“She doesn't know what she's talking about.””
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Really? You told me the attorney had already prepared everything.””
Marcus turned on her.
“You're upset. You're not thinking clearly.””
“No, Marcus. I'm thinking very clearly for the first time in months.””
Daniel pulled out a chair.
“Lauren, sit down.””
“I don't want to sit.””
“Then don't. But you need to hear this before he convinces you that you're imagining things.””
Marcus approached me slowly.
“Sweetheart, you're exhausted. This has been an emotional evening.””
I stared at him.
“Don't call me sweetheart.””
He stopped.
For years, that word had softened every disagreement. He used it whenever he wanted me to stop asking questions.
Now it sounded like a threat.
Daniel opened his envelope again.
“I hired a private investigator after discovering Vanessa's affair. He found something unusual while examining the financial records.””
He handed me several pages.
The first was a photocopy of a medical evaluation.
My name appeared at the top.
Below it were statements claiming I suffered from severe memory impairment, emotional instability, and episodes of confusion.
The report recommended that my husband be appointed as my legal guardian for financial and medical decisions.
I read the final paragraph.
Then I read it again.
“This says I was evaluated on August nineteenth.””
Daniel nodded.
“Were you?””
“No.””
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“Lauren, you had a difficult period around that time. We discussed getting help.””
“We discussed nothing.””
“You were forgetting appointments.””
“I was working twelve-hour days.””
“You were becoming forgetful.””
“I was tired!””
My voice echoed against the dining room walls.
Marcus flinched, but only for a moment.
Then his expression hardened.
“You see? This is exactly what I'm talking about. You get emotional over the smallest things.””
I stared at him.
There it was.
The familiar accusation.
The same one he had used when I questioned the missing money, when I asked about his late nights, and when I told him I couldn't remember certain conversations.
I looked at Daniel.
“Who signed this evaluation?””
He pointed to the bottom.
Dr. Richard Bell.
The same name on the prescription bottle.
“Have you spoken to him?”” I asked.
“Yes. His office confirmed that an evaluation was requested by a representative of your husband.””
“Who?””
Daniel hesitated.
“Marcus's attorney.””
Marcus laughed.
“You're relying on information from a private investigator who doesn't understand medical or legal procedures.””
Daniel placed another document on the table.
“Then explain the payment.””
It was a bank transfer.
$18,000.
From the account in my name to a company called Bell Consulting Services.
The date was August twenty-first.
I felt sick.
“I didn't authorize this.””
Marcus folded his arms.
“You gave me permission to manage the household finances.””
“Not to pay a doctor I've never met.””
“It was an administrative expense.””
“An administrative expense for a medical evaluation I never had?””
He looked toward Vanessa.
She avoided his eyes.
Daniel picked up his phone.
“I also have the recording.””
Marcus's shoulders stiffened.
“Play it.””
Daniel tapped the screen.
A man's voice filled the room.
Marcus.
I recognized his voice immediately, although the recording sounded distant, as if it had been made inside a restaurant.
“Once the evaluation is filed, the attorney can move forward. Lauren won't be able to challenge the transfer.””
Another voice answered.
A woman.
Vanessa.
“And what happens if she refuses to sign?””
Marcus chuckled.
“She won't. She trusts me.””
The recording continued.
“What about the company?””
“Once the documents are signed, the assets are protected. If she starts asking questions, we'll have the medical report to explain her behavior.””
Then came a sentence that made my knees weaken.
“By the time she realizes what's happened, there won't be anything left for her to take.””
Daniel stopped the recording.
Nobody spoke.
I looked at Marcus.
He looked back at me without an ounce of remorse.
“How much?”” I asked.
He exhaled.
“Lauren—”
“How much money have you taken?””
“It's not that simple.””
“Give me a number.””
He looked toward the ceiling as though I were inconveniencing him.
“About two million.””
My hand flew to my mouth.
Two million dollars.
The money represented years of work, investments, and the inheritance my father had left me when my mother died.
I had trusted Marcus to manage it because he told me he understood investments better than I did.
He had promised we were building a future.
Now I wondered whether the future he imagined had ever included me.
“Where is it?””
“Invested.””
“Where?””
“Lauren, you're not qualified to understand—”
“Stop telling me what I'm qualified to understand!””
My voice cracked.
I gripped the edge of the table.
Daniel moved closer, but I raised a hand.
I needed to stand on my own.
Marcus finally looked uncomfortable.
“Some of the money went into Mitchell Holdings. Some was used to purchase properties.””
“Properties?””
“Investment properties.””
“Whose names are on them?””
He didn't answer.
I felt my stomach twist.
“Marcus. Whose names?””
“Mine.””
I stared at him.
Then I laughed.
It was a small, broken sound.
Eight years of marriage.
Eight years of believing we were building something together.
And apparently, I had been financing a life in which I owned nothing.
Vanessa sat down.
“I didn't know about all of it,” she whispered.
Daniel looked at her.
“You knew enough.””
She wiped her cheek.
“Marcus told me Lauren had agreed to everything. He said she was too overwhelmed to handle the money and wanted him to manage it.””
I turned toward her.
“And you believed him?””
She looked at the bracelet.
“I wanted to.””
“Because he bought you things?””
“Because he promised me a future.””
I glanced at Marcus.
“Apparently, he promised everyone a future.””
Marcus stepped closer.
“Lauren, listen to me. Whatever happened financially, we can work it out. You and I can discuss this without strangers interfering.””
“Strangers?””
“Daniel is not part of our marriage.””
I looked at the man who had brought evidence of my husband's betrayal into my home.
“No,” I said.
“He's just the only person in this room who seems interested in telling me the truth.””
Marcus's face darkened.
“Don't make a decision you'll regret.””
I reached into my pocket and took out my phone.
“I'm calling my attorney.””
He laughed.
“You don't have an attorney.””
“I will in about thirty seconds.””
He shook his head.
“You're being ridiculous.””
I dialed the number Daniel had written on the back of the envelope.
The attorney answered on the third ring.
“Good evening. This is Evelyn Grant.””
“My name is Lauren Mitchell. Daniel Hayes suggested I contact you. I need immediate help with possible financial fraud and a fraudulent medical evaluation.””
The attorney's voice became serious.
“Are you in immediate danger?””
I looked at Marcus.
“I don't know.””
“Then I want you to remain somewhere safe. Do not sign anything. Do not agree to any medical appointments arranged by your husband without independent verification. And do not allow him access to your personal documents.””
“I understand.””
“Can you secure your identification, banking information, and medication?””
I glanced toward the kitchen.
The small white pill organizer sat beside the kettle.
“Yes.””
“Good. I'll meet you first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, if you feel threatened, contact the authorities.””
When I ended the call, Marcus was staring at me.
“You're actually doing this?””
“Yes.””
“After everything I've done for you?””
I looked around the dining room.
The flowers.
The candles.
The meal I had spent three days preparing.
“Tell me something, Marcus. When exactly did you stop loving me?””
His jaw tightened.
“Don't turn this into a sentimental conversation.””
“Was it before Boston?””
He said nothing.
“Before you bought Vanessa that bracelet?””
Nothing.
“Or was it when you decided I was easier to rob if you convinced everyone I was losing my mind?””
His eyes hardened.
“You have no idea what I've had to deal with.””
I stared at him.
Then I noticed his phone vibrating on the table.
He glanced at the screen.
A notification appeared.
*Evelyn Grant — Incoming Call.*
My blood ran cold.
The same attorney I had just contacted?
No.
I looked closer.
Marcus picked up the phone before I could read anything else.
“Excuse me.””
He walked toward the hallway.
Daniel watched him leave.
Then he turned to me.
“Lauren, there's something else.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
He hesitated.
“The money isn't the only reason Marcus wanted that evaluation.””
“What else could there be?””
Daniel opened his phone and showed me an email.
It was addressed to Marcus.
The subject line read:
*Final transfer authorization — Mitchell Family Trust.*
I read the message.
Then I noticed the date.
It had been sent six months earlier.
The attached document listed the beneficiaries of a trust I had never heard of.
My name appeared first.
My father's name appeared beneath it.
I frowned.
“Why is my father's name here?””
Daniel looked at me carefully.
“Because your father created that trust before he died.””
I felt the room shift again.
“What trust?””
Daniel swallowed.
“Lauren, your father didn't leave you just the inheritance you know about.””
Before I could ask another question, Marcus returned.
He had put on his coat.
And he was holding a folder.
“Lauren,” he said calmly, “we need to finish this tonight.””
I looked at the folder.
“What is it?””
“Something you need to sign.””
Daniel immediately stood.
“Don't.””
Marcus ignored him.
“It's the paperwork that will make everything easier.””
I looked at the signature line visible through the transparent cover.
My name had already been typed beneath it.
May you like
And beside the signature line was a legal term I had never seen before.
*Voluntary declaration of incapacity.*
