Chapter 4
The next morning, my bank called.
That was how I learned Daniel had moved faster than grief.
Three attempted transfers.
Two business accounts.
One personal savings account.
All flagged because I had changed alerts months earlier after a vendor fraud scare.
Daniel had tried to drain everything at 3:12 a.m.
From jail.
Or with help.
I called my attorney, Elise Monroe.
She arrived at the restaurant before opening with a laptop, a legal pad, and the face of a woman who disliked men who confused marriage with ownership.
“Protective order first,” she said.
“Already started.”
“Emergency custody.”
“Yes.”
“Business freeze.”
“Please.”
She looked at me.
“Valerie, this may get ugly.”
I almost laughed.
“It started ugly.”
She pulled up the transfer attempts.
The destination account belonged to a shell company.
D.R. Holdings.
Daniel Reese.
My husband had not even bothered hiding his initials well.
Elise clicked deeper.
“There’s a second authorized user.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
She turned the screen.
Marissa Lane.
I knew the name.
Everyone in town knew the name.
Marissa was a food blogger who had reviewed my restaurant twice.
She had praised Daniel’s “natural charisma” in an article that made him unbearable for weeks.
“She’s the woman,” I said.
Elise nodded.
“Likely.”
Thomas sat in the corner booth with pancakes, watching us.
I hated that he had to hear words like shell company before algebra.
Then Renee arrived with Nick.
He wore the same hoodie.
But his face was cleaner.
His eyes found Thomas.
Thomas ran to him.
They hugged awkwardly.
Like boys pretending not to need hugs.
Renee asked to speak privately.
Nick had run from a temporary home six months ago.
His mother was dead.
His father unknown.
But an aunt in Ohio had filed missing reports.
“She has been searching,” Renee said.
Nick stood near the window.
“He thinks no one wants him.”
I looked at him.
May you like
Then at Thomas.
“Then we prove otherwise.”
