Chapter 3 - Olivia Wasn't the Real Secret
I took a photograph of Thomas's phone screen with mine.
Then I stepped away.
For the first time since finding the hotel reservation, I felt genuinely afraid.
Not physically.
Not yet.
But the fear that arrives when the borders of a betrayal suddenly become impossible to see.
Greece had been understandable.
Horrible.
Humiliating.
But understandable.
An ex-girlfriend.
A romantic resort.
A husband who wanted attention and excitement.
Evan Rourke was different.
An unknown man.
A private account.
Two hundred eighty thousand dollars.
My signature.
And now Olivia apparently had something to say.
Thomas came downstairs fifteen minutes later.
His hair was wet.
He had changed into sweatpants and a gray T-shirt.
He glanced at his phone.
I watched his face.
He read the messages.
Then he looked at me.
“Everything okay?”
I asked.
He locked the phone.
“Work.”
At that moment, something almost peaceful settled over me.
A lie is exhausting when you're still deciding whether to believe it.
Once you stop, it becomes information.
“Okay.”
Thomas studied me.
“You're staying tonight?”
“Lily's asleep.”
“Good.”
He sounded relieved.
I didn't tell him Alannah had advised me to remain until the financial filing went through.
At 9:26, an email arrived.
TEMPORARY PRESERVATION ORDER SUBMITTED.
At 9:41:
Judge reviewing.
At 10:03:
GRANTED. DO NOT ALERT HIM UNTIL BANKS RECEIVE SERVICE.
I stared at the message.
My hands shook.
Across the room, Thomas watched television without seeing it.
At 10:17, he picked up his phone.
He frowned.
Then stood abruptly.
“What?”
He ignored me.
Opened his banking app.
Tapped.
Again.
His face drained of color.
“What did you do?”
I looked up.
“What?”
“What did you do to the accounts?”
“Which accounts?”
“Don't.”
His voice was low.
“Don't do that.”
I stood.
“Meridian?”
His expression confirmed everything.
“You froze my money?”
“Marital money.”
“You had no right.”
“The judge disagreed.”
“A judge?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me.
“You filed something without telling me?”
“Like opening a credit line with my signature?”
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
He paced toward the windows.
“This was temporary.”
“What was?”
“The financing.”
“For what?”
He said nothing.
“Thomas.”
“I was fixing it.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I was.”
“Who is Evan Rourke?”
He turned.
That was the first time I saw fear in him.
Actual fear.
“Where did you hear that name?”
I didn't answer.
“Celeste.”
“Who is he?”
“Someone from work.”
“Doing what?”
“Consulting.”
“With our money?”
“No.”
“Then why is his name on Meridian?”
Thomas went still.
He hadn't known I knew that much.
“Who showed you?”
“My lawyer.”
“You've given her our private financial records?”
“Our?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes. I'm learning exactly what you mean.”
He sat down.
For several seconds, he looked older than thirty-four.
“This got out of control.”
“What did?”
“A deal.”
“What deal?”
“At work.”
“You put our house behind a work deal?”
“It wasn't supposed to touch the house.”
“You used marital collateral.”
“I was going to unwind it.”
“With whose money?”
Silence.
Then the worst thought arrived.
“Thomas, did you lose it?”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“Some of it is tied up.”
“How much?”
He didn't answer.
“How much?”
“About ninety.”
“Ninety thousand?”
He looked away.
I almost felt relieved.
Then he said:
“Remaining.”
My breath caught.
“You spent almost two hundred thousand dollars?”
“Invested.”
“In what?”
“A transaction.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It would take too long to explain.”
“We have all night.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“Not here.”
“Then tomorrow.”
“No.”
His answer came too quickly.
“Why not tomorrow?”
“Because Rourke is going to panic.”
“Why?”
Thomas stood.
“This is bigger than us.”
I laughed once.
“You forged my signature and now it's bigger than us?”
“I did not forge your signature.”
“Then who did?”
He stopped.
There it was.
The silence.
I stepped closer.
“Who did, Thomas?”
His voice dropped.
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“You signed a package.”
“I signed documents you misrepresented.”
“I know.”
The admission surprised both of us.
He looked down.
“I know.”
For one second, I saw the man I married.
Ashamed.
Human.
Then he ruined it.
“I thought you'd understand later.”
“Understand what?”
“That I was trying to build something for us.”
“You were building something with another man using money I didn't know existed while vacationing with another woman.”
“It wasn't a vacation.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
He closed his eyes.
Thomas realized too late.
I whispered:
“What was Greece?”
He said nothing.
“Thomas.”
“Olivia knew Rourke.”
The room changed.
“How?”
“She worked with him years ago.”
“Doing what?”
“Investor relations.”
“And?”
“She had information.”
“What information?”
He rubbed his face.
“Rourke was using shell companies.”
“For what?”
“I don't know all of it.”
“But you gave him money?”
“I thought the deal was legitimate.”
“You used our assets for a deal you didn't understand?”
“I understood the investment. I didn't understand him.”
“And Olivia?”
“She warned me.”
I stared.
“So you took her to Greece because she warned you?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“She had documents.”
“You couldn't receive documents in London?”
“She didn't want to meet there.”
“Why?”
“Because Rourke had people watching.”
I laughed.
I couldn't help it.
“This is ridiculous.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds like you're inventing a thriller because cheating isn't dramatic enough.”
“I didn't sleep with her.”
“I no longer care.”
That hurt him.
Good.
I continued.
“You lied to me. You used our money. You involved my name in something you won't explain. Whether you slept with Olivia is now fourth on the list.”
He stared.
“Fourth?”
“Yes.”
“What are the first three?”
“My daughter. My financial security. My legal identity.”
He sat down.
I watched him realize what he'd done.
Not the trip.
Not the affair-that-maybe-wasn't.
The erosion.
He had made himself unsafe.
At 11:08, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice.
“Celeste?”
I knew immediately.
Olivia.
Thomas stood so fast the chair moved.
“Who is that?”
Olivia heard him.
“He's there?”
“Yes.”
“Don't let him stop you from leaving tomorrow.”
Thomas reached for my phone.
I stepped back.
“Olivia.”
His face hardened.
“What are you doing?”
She ignored him.
“Celeste, I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
“I didn't go to Greece because I wanted your husband.”
Thomas swore under his breath.
Olivia continued.
“I went because I was trying to get him to tell you the truth.”
“What truth?”
Thomas moved toward me.
“Hang up.”
I backed away.
“Olivia?”
Her breathing changed.
Then she said:
“Ask Thomas why Evan Rourke needed your name on the account.”
I looked at my husband.
He had gone completely still.
“Why?”
Olivia lowered her voice.
“Because the money wasn't the thing they were buying.”
“What were they buying?”
A crash sounded through the phone.
Olivia gasped.
Then the line went dead.
Thomas stared at me.
I called back.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
Then a text arrived from Olivia's number.
It contained a single photograph.
A contract.
At the bottom were three signatures.
Thomas Beaumont.
Evan Rourke.
And mine.
May you like
Above them was a line I had never seen before:
TRANSFER OF CONTROLLING INTEREST.
