Chapter 5 - The Other Monica
Nobody moved.
Monica from Cumberland Leasing stared at the paper.
“My last name isn’t Densmore.”
Mark nodded.
“I know.”
“Then who is she?”
Andy’s cousin unfolded the application.
“The woman Andy listed as his domestic partner.”
Summer felt pressure build behind her eyes.
Not tears.
Shock.
“Domestic partner?”
Evelyn whispered, “Andrew is married.”
“I know.”
Mark turned the paper toward Summer.
“It was an application for a private credit line.”
Summer looked at the date.
Six months earlier.
Long before Andy’s supposed promotion.
Long before the seventy-five-dollar budget.
Name: Andrew Oldham.
Domestic partner: Monica Densmore.
Requested credit: $85,000.
Summer stared.
“Did you approve it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“The documentation didn’t match.”
“What documentation?”
“Address. Income. Relationship status.”
Linda said quietly, “He lied.”
“Yes.”
“Did you confront him?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He told me he had accidentally submitted an old draft prepared by a business consultant.”
Summer looked at him.
“You believed that?”
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
Mark’s face tightened.
“Because he was family.”
The sentence landed like an insult.
Summer looked at Evelyn.
The older woman lowered her eyes.
Family.
Again.
The word people used when they wanted silence to sound honorable.
“You protected him,” Summer said.
Mark nodded once.
“Yes.”
“And because you protected him, six months later he had access to Evelyn’s money and forged my signature.”
“I know.”
“No. You know now.”
Mark accepted the blow.
Summer looked down at the name.
Monica Densmore.
“Who is she?”
“I don’t know.”
Robert leaned closer.
“The address?”
Mark showed him.
Robert frowned.
“That’s downtown.”
“A condo,” Mark said.
Summer knew the building.
Luxury units overlooking the Cumberland River.
Andy had once pointed at it while they were driving.
One day.
He had said it casually.
One day, that’s the level I’ll live at.
Summer had laughed.
She had thought he meant success.
Now she wondered if he meant without her.
“Can we find who owns the unit?” she asked.
Robert nodded.
“Property records.”
Within fifteen minutes, Robert had his laptop open at the dining table.
Evelyn sat silently.
Linda made coffee.
The leasing agent Monica stayed because she had become as invested in the mystery as everyone else.
Robert searched the address.
Then stopped.
“What?”
Summer came behind him.
Owner: Densmore Property Group LLC.
He searched the company.
Registered agent: Monica Densmore.
Summer waited.
Robert found a mailing address.
Then a name variation.
Monica Dale Densmore.
Age thirty-four.
Summer had never heard it.
Evelyn said, “Maybe she’s a client.”
Linda gave her a look.
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“I know.”
Summer asked Robert, “Can you find anything else?”
He searched.
Linked company registrations.
A consulting firm.
An event-marketing company.
And then—
Oldham Executive Holdings.
Summer stared at the screen.
“What?”
Robert clicked.
A business filing appeared.
Amended management record.
Added member: Monica Densmore.
Ownership percentage: 40%.
Summer sat down.
Forty percent.
Andy had created the company using his mother’s surname.
Taken forty thousand from his mother.
And given forty percent of the company to another woman.
“When?” she asked.
“Two months ago.”
Summer did the arithmetic.
Before the car purchase.
Before the proposed SUV.
Before the seventy-five-dollar household budget.
“Find her.”
Robert hesitated.
“Summer.”
“Find her.”
They did not need long.
Monica Densmore had a public professional profile.
Event strategist.
Luxury brand consultant.
Photographs from corporate parties.
Restaurant openings.
Auto showcases.
Then Summer saw a picture.
Andy stood in the background.
Not beside Monica.
Not touching.
But there.
Date: five months ago.
Another photograph.
Andy again.
Closer.
Then one from six weeks ago.
Andy and Monica were standing together.
Her hand rested on his chest.
Summer enlarged the image.
Evelyn whispered, “Oh.”
Summer remained silent.
The room watched her.
She felt no dramatic breaking.
No cinematic collapse.
Only an extraordinary exhaustion.
Eight years.
Eight years of laundry.
Budgets.
Birthdays.
Family dinners.
Tax returns.
Picking him up when his car broke down.
Sitting beside his mother at the hospital.
Packing lunches.
Calling repairmen.
Building a life.
Meanwhile, Andy had apparently been building another identity.
Maybe another relationship.
Maybe another future.
Linda touched Summer’s shoulder.
Summer stepped away.
“I need air.”
She went onto the back patio.
Biscuit followed her to the glass door but did not go outside.
Summer sat on the step.
Evelyn joined her several minutes later.
“I’m sorry.”
Summer stared into the yard.
“You said that already.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“Did you know about her?”
“No.”
“Did you know he was lying about work?”
“No.”
“Did you know he had debt?”
“Not this much.”
Summer looked at her.
“How much did you know?”
Evelyn did not answer immediately.
“Enough that I should have warned you.”
Summer swallowed.
“When?”
“Before you married him.”
The confession was quiet.
Summer looked away.
Evelyn continued.
“Andy always wanted to look more successful than he was. In high school, he borrowed clothes. In college, he put trips on credit cards. Your father-in-law and I kept rescuing him.”
“And you never told me.”
“I thought marriage had changed him.”
Summer laughed bitterly.
“No. Marriage gave him another person to hide behind.”
Evelyn’s eyes filled.
“You’re right.”
Summer looked at her.
For the first time all evening, no one defended Andy.
That mattered.
Inside, Robert stepped toward the door.
“Summer.”
She stood.
“What?”
“I found something.”
They returned to the dining room.
On the laptop was another filing.
A lease.
Not a vehicle lease.
Residential.
The luxury condo.
Tenant: Oldham Executive Holdings.
Authorized occupant: Monica Densmore.
Lease guarantor: Andrew Whitaker.
Summer read the start date.
Four months earlier.
“So he pays for her apartment.”
Robert said nothing.
Summer looked at the monthly rent.
$4,800.
She almost laughed again.
Seventy-five dollars for groceries.
Four thousand eight hundred dollars for someone else’s condo.
Linda whispered, “That bastard.”
Evelyn did not correct her.
Summer’s phone rang.
Andy.
She declined it.
He called again.
She declined.
Then a text arrived.
You have no idea what you’re doing.
Another.
Do not contact Monica.
Summer looked at Robert.
“He knows we found her.”
“How?”
Everyone looked around.
Mark suddenly swore.
“What?”
“The shared account.”
Summer turned.
“What shared account?”
“Your phone plan.”
Andy could potentially see numbers contacted.
But they had not contacted Monica.
Not yet.
Then the leasing agent Monica spoke.
“He might know because I messaged my manager.”
Summer looked at her.
“About what?”
“I told them I was staying because the application involved potential fraud.”
Andy might have guessed.
Summer sat down.
Another message arrived.
If you embarrass me at work, you’ll regret it.
Summer stared at those words.
Eight years.
She had never been afraid of Andy.
Now, for the first time, she wondered whether she should be.
Robert read her expression.
“What did he say?”
She showed him.
His face hardened.
“Save everything.”
Summer screenshot the messages.
Then emailed them to herself.
Library habits.
Preserve the record.
At 10:44, a final message arrived.
This one was not from Andy.
Unknown number.
Summer opened it.
Hello, Summer. My name is Monica Densmore. I think we need to talk.
Everyone went silent.
Then a second message appeared.
Andy told me you two had been separated for almost a year.
Summer’s hand went cold.
A third message followed immediately.
But that isn’t why I’m contacting you.
Summer stared at the screen.
Three dots appeared.
Then Monica sent a photograph.
A photograph of a document.
At the top were the words:
LIFE INSURANCE BENEFICIARY CHANGE.
Summer zoomed in.
The insured person’s name was hers.
May you like
The new beneficiary was Andy.
And at the bottom was a signature she had never written.
