Chapter 5 - TESSA CAME TO SEE ME
Tessa appeared at my office building two weeks later.
Security called upstairs.
“There’s a woman asking for you.”
“Name?”
“Tessa Morgan.”
I almost said send her away.
Instead, I met her in the lobby.
Public place.
Cameras.
People.
Not because I thought she would hurt me.
Because I was finished having private conversations that later became disputed stories.
Tessa looked exhausted.
No makeup.
Hair tied back.
Nothing like the Charleston photographs.
“I’m sorry.”
I said nothing.
She continued.
“I didn’t know about the deed.”
“Were you sleeping with my husband before he filed?”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Eleven months.”
So there it was.
“Did you know he was married?”
“Yes.”
“Then start the apology again.”
Her eyes filled.
“I’m sorry for the affair.”
Better.
“And?”
“For believing him when he said the marriage had been over for years.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I know that now.”
I crossed my arms.
“What did he tell you about the house?”
“That you didn’t want it.”
I laughed.
“He said you hated living there because of your health issues.”
“My health issue started the week he filed.”
Tessa stared.
“He told me you had been chronically ill for almost two years.”
No.
I had mild anemia previously.
Nothing remotely like what he described.
She continued:
“He said you were moving closer to your sister.”
Also false.
“He said you agreed he would keep the house in exchange for leaving your retirement alone.”
False again.
Then Tessa whispered:
“He showed me the deed.”
The forged one.
“Did you ever ask me?”
Her face folded.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I was having an affair with your husband.”
At least she understood the pattern.
She could not safely verify anything with me without exposing herself.
Eric knew that.
Secrecy became protection for every other lie.
Tessa wiped her face.
“I sold my condo.”
I already knew.
“How much did you put toward the new house?”
“Eighty-six thousand.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where is it?”
“Escrow returned most of it when financing collapsed.”
Most.
She had also transferred approximately $27,000 to Eric for deposits, furniture, travel, and ceremony expenses.
Money she now suspected was gone.
“I’m not responsible for that,” I said.
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
She looked at me.
“Because he told me you did something to ruin us.”
I waited.
“And?”
“I think he ruined us.”
There it was.
I did not comfort her.
But I did say:
“Yes.”
She nodded.
Then asked:
“How much do you actually make?”
I almost laughed.
“What did he tell you?”
“Forty-eight thousand.”
I looked toward the elevators.
“Eric hasn’t known my salary in years.”
“How much?”
“One hundred thirty.”
Her mouth opened.
Not because that made me rich.
It didn’t.
But because another piece of Eric’s story collapsed.
He had described me to her as financially helpless.
A burden.
A sick wife he had supported for years.
A woman who could not possibly maintain the house.
He needed me small in both stories.
His story to her.
May you like
And his story to himself.
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