“What amendment?”
He scanned the page, then looked at Daniel.
My heart began pounding.
“No,” I said softly.
Daniel’s face was unreadable.
Mr. Meyers spoke with difficulty. “A later document appears to grant financial advisory access to Daniel Carter.”
I stared at my husband.
“You told me those papers were for our mortgage.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“You told me,” I repeated, my voice shaking now, “that if I didn’t sign quickly, we could lose the house.”
Daniel said nothing.
The memory opened in me like an old wound.
Lily had been three. Noah not yet born. I had been exhausted, sitting at the kitchen table in my robe while Daniel flipped pages and pointed to signature lines.
Just routine, Em. Legal language. You know I handle this stuff.
And I had signed.
Because I trusted him.
Because marriage had felt like one body moving through life together.
Because I never imagined the hand holding mine could also be guiding me toward a cliff.
Vanessa sank onto the bottom stair. “Daniel…”
He looked at her sharply, but she no longer seemed afraid of him. Only sickened.
Mr. Meyers placed the papers back in the case. “We need a forensic accountant immediately.”
Daniel laughed bitterly. “Of course you do.”
I turned to him. “Did you take money from me?”
His eyes rose to mine.
For one suspended second, I thought he might tell the truth.
Instead he said, “I kept us afloat.”
“No,” I whispered. “I did that.”
His jaw tightened.
“I worked,” I said. “I sold my mother’s bracelet. I went without. I told the children no when I wanted to give them everything. And you let me believe we were barely surviving while you had access to money my mother left for me?”
Daniel’s eyes grew wet, but whether from guilt or rage, I couldn’t tell.
“You don’t know what pressure feels like,” he said. “You have always had people waiting to rescue you. Margaret. Your mother’s name. This house. That tower.”
I stepped closer.
“My mother died,” I said quietly. “My aunt kept secrets. And you were my husband. You were supposed to be my family, not another locked door.”
The words settled between us.
For the first time that day, Daniel looked wounded by something other than exposure.
He looked ashamed.
But shame did not undo anything.
