Chapter 4 - “You’re Not Staying in My Apartment Tonight”
My attorney's name was Rachel Bennett.
She was fifty-two, wore dark red glasses, and had the unnerving ability to remain completely expressionless while hearing things that made me want to scream.
She reviewed the loan application.
Then the bank transfers.
Then my messages with Julian.
Finally, she looked at me.
"Do you want a divorce?"
The question sounded brutal in its simplicity.
Three days earlier, I might have cried.
Instead I said, "Yes."
Rachel nodded.
"Then we're going to treat everything from this point forward as evidence."
I felt my throat tighten.
"Was the loan illegal?"
"If you did not authorize it, potentially."
"And the money he sent his mother?"
"More complicated. Some came from a joint account."
"So he can just take it?"
"I didn't say that."
She tapped the papers.
"Context matters. Patterns matter. Fraud matters. What I need from you is documentation."
I laughed bitterly.
"My father likes documentation."
"Your father sounds useful."
That afternoon, divorce papers were prepared.
Rachel advised me not to meet Julian alone.
I didn't plan to.
He made that decision for me.
At 8:40 that night, someone knocked on my apartment door.
I looked through the peephole.
Julian.
He held flowers.
For one ridiculous second, memories attacked me.
Our first date.
His proposal on a rainy bridge.
The way he had held me after my grandmother died.
Human beings are inconveniently complicated.
Someone can hurt you and still exist inside memories where they once made you happy.
I opened the door but left the security chain attached.
Julian smiled.
"Hi."
"What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk."
"I'm not letting you in."
His smile weakened.
"Elena, I'm your husband."
"Not for much longer."
That landed.
He looked down at the flowers.
"Your father has filled your head with nonsense."
"The loan application has my forged signature."
He went completely still.
Then he recovered.
"I can explain that."
"Explain."
"Not through a chained door."
"Try."
He lowered his voice.
"We needed money."
"Who is we?"
"You know Mom had problems."
"You took out a loan in my name for your mother?"
"It wasn't like that."
"What was it like?"
He sighed.
"I knew you'd say no before understanding the situation."
I stared at him.
There it was again.
My no didn't count if he disagreed with my reason.
"So you signed my name?"
"I was going to pay it back."
"That isn't an answer."
"I did pay most of it back."
"With money from our joint account."
His jaw tightened.
"You're making me sound like a criminal."
"I didn't make the loan application."
He glanced down the hallway.
"Can you stop performing?"
No one was there.
I almost laughed.
Even with no audience, he accused me of performing.
"Rachel will contact you."
"Rachel?"
"My attorney."
The flowers lowered.
"You actually filed?"
"Tomorrow."
His expression changed completely.
The softness vanished.
"You're going to destroy our marriage over a car and some money?"
"No."
I spoke slowly.
"I'm ending our marriage because you believed anything I owned became yours whenever you wanted it."
"You'll regret this."
The sentence was quiet.
Not a threat exactly.
But not love either.
I closed the door.
The next morning, divorce papers were filed.
At 10:22 a.m., Julian was served at his office.
At 10:41, Brenda called me.
I didn't answer.
At 10:43, she called again.
Then again.
Finally, she left a voicemail.
I expected anger.
Instead, she was crying.
"Elena, please call me. Julian isn't telling you everything."
I deleted nothing.
I sent the recording to Rachel.
Then another voicemail came.
This one was stranger.
"That loan was not supposed to be in your name."
I replayed it three times.
That afternoon, Brenda texted one final message.
There are things you don't know about your husband.
May you like
For the first time since the tow truck took the Camry away, Brenda wasn't defending her son.
She sounded afraid of him.
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