Chapter 10 - The Signature That Wasn't Mine
The financial investigation moved more slowly than I wanted.
Every day felt like another opportunity for Evan to change his explanation.
Sometimes I worried that the truth would become so buried beneath paperwork that nobody would remember why it mattered.
Rebecca reminded me repeatedly that documentation required patience.
"Your job isn't to make him admit everything today," she said. "Your job is to keep your own records accurate."
So I did.
I collected emails.
Preserved messages.
Responded to formal requests.
And returned to work.
My first new client was a widower named Thomas Whitaker, who wanted help renovating a small farmhouse outside Asheville.
He was seventy-two, with a gentle manner and an unfortunate fondness for plaid wallpaper.
"My daughter says I need someone who understands modern design," he told me.
I smiled.
"Do you want modern design?"
"Not particularly."
"Then perhaps we should design something you actually like."
He stared at me.
Then laughed.
"Finally. Someone sensible."
For two hours, we discussed natural light, practical storage, and the importance of keeping the old oak dining table his late wife had chosen.
When I drove back to Nora's house, I realized I'd spent an entire afternoon thinking about something other than Evan.
I sat in my car and cried.
Happy tears, this time.
The next major development came through the financing provider.
After reviewing the disputed authorization materials, the company suspended collection activity against me while continuing its investigation.
Rebecca cautioned that additional steps might be required.
But for the first time, the documents were being treated as disputed rather than automatically accepted.
Then Evan's attorney requested a settlement meeting.
Rebecca explained that I wasn't required to attend personally, but I chose to participate with her present.
I wanted to hear what Evan would say.
He arrived wearing a navy suit.
He looked thinner.
His hair was untidy, and dark circles shadowed his eyes.
For one terrible second, I wanted to ask whether he'd been taking his medication.
Then I remembered I was no longer responsible for managing his life.
"Claire."
"Hello, Evan."
He looked at my bare left hand.
His expression tightened.
We sat across a conference table.
Our attorneys reviewed the financial issues.
Evan acknowledged initiating the medical financing arrangements but argued that he'd believed I would have supported the expense if he'd explained the circumstances.
Rebecca asked a simple question.
"Did Mrs. Brooks authorize the use of her signature?"
Evan looked at me.
"Claire, I knew you wouldn't let Carol suffer."
I felt something inside me become very still.
"You were right."
His expression brightened.
Then I continued.
"If you'd come home and told me honestly that a colleague's mother needed urgent treatment, I might have suggested charities, payment plans, or other ways to help."
I leaned forward.
"But you didn't ask. You signed my name while planning to leave me for that colleague."
He looked down.
"You make it sound calculated."
"I didn't create the dates, Evan."
For once, he had nothing to say.
Later, while our attorneys discussed practical arrangements, he asked whether we could speak privately.
Rebecca left the final decision to me.
I declined.
There was no reason to create another room where Evan could replace facts with emotion.
As the meeting ended, he stood beside the door.
"Claire, I really did love you."
I stopped.
For a moment, the past pressed against me.
Every birthday.
Every road trip.
Every ordinary evening.
"I believe you probably did," I said.
His eyes filled with hope.
Then I finished.
"But loving someone doesn't give you ownership of their forgiveness."
I walked away.
That evening, Rebecca forwarded a notice from Evan's employer.
His position had been placed under review pending completion of its internal financial investigation.
May you like
And according to the documents provided, the company had discovered something neither Paige nor I had previously known.
The questionable reimbursements extended further back than the affair.
