That morning, when Megan demanded my bank card, I finally understood the reason.
They did not need money for groceries.
They needed access before the fraud became impossible to conceal.
At 8:14 p.m., my phone began vibrating.
Daniel called eleven times.
Then Megan called.
Then Daniel again.
Finally, a message appeared.
Where are you?
I watched the screen until another text arrived.
What did you put on the table?
For the first time that day, I managed to breathe without pain.
Under my wedding ring, I had placed one photocopied page from the folder.
Not the original documents.
Not even the most damaging page.
Only a loan agreement for $312,000 bearing Daniel’s forged version of my signature.
At 8:27 p.m., another message appeared.
Lauren. Come home. We need to talk before you do something stupid.
I turned the phone facedown.
Then I called the number printed on the legal clinic card.
By morning, Daniel would discover that copies had already been delivered to an attorney, a forensic accountant, and the loan officer whose name appeared on the fraudulent documents.
By noon, he would understand that the bank card he wanted was the least valuable thing I controlled.
Part 3
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