Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE I NEVER GAVE
I had seen Owen frightened before.
I had seen him frightened when our first restaurant almost closed, when our second location failed its initial health inspection, and when the doctor told us our second pregnancy was no longer viable.
But this was different.
This wasn't the fear of losing something.
It was the fear of being discovered.
“What exactly shouldn't I sign?” I asked.
Owen glanced at Lucas.
“Can we discuss this without an audience?”
Lucas folded his arms.
“My wife is involved. So is my company.”
“Your wife made a mistake.”
Lucas laughed once.
“A mistake?”
Owen looked at me.
“Becca, I can explain the invoices.”
“Then explain them.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“We had cash-flow problems last winter. I moved some expenses around temporarily.”
“Through Lucas's construction company?”
“It was complicated.”
“I understand complicated. I've managed our finances for eight years.”
His expression tightened.
“Not all of them.”
The words landed harder than he intended.
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
He looked away.
“Owen.”
“There's a holding company.”
I felt my pulse accelerate.
“What holding company?”
“Hale Hospitality Holdings.”
“I know about Hale Hospitality Holdings. I helped create it.”
“There's another entity beneath it.”
Lucas turned toward him.
“What entity?”
Owen ignored him.
“Rebecca, I need you to trust me.”
I looked at the man I'd trusted with my entire adult life.
“I did.”
He reached for my hand.
I stepped back.
“Eleven years, Owen. I trusted you for eleven years.”
His eyes filled.
“Please don't throw everything away over one mistake.”
“One mistake?”
I took out my phone.
“Seven hotel receipts. Nearly half a million dollars in questionable invoices. And a company I've never heard of.”
“Those things aren't connected.”
“Then you won't mind me hiring an independent accountant.”
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“That's unnecessary.”
“Good,” I said. “Then the accountant won't find anything.”
Lucas looked toward the ballroom.
“I think we should leave.”
Owen pointed at him.
“Stay out of my marriage.”
Lucas's voice went cold.
“Then keep your hands off mine.”
I walked past both men.
In the parking lot, I sat inside my car and stared at the steering wheel.
My phone rang.
Owen.
I declined.
It rang again.
Then a text appeared.
Please come home. We can fix this.
I typed three words.
Not tonight, Owen.
I drove to my sister's house in Brookfield.
Megan answered the door wearing pajama pants and an oversized college sweatshirt.
She took one look at me.
“What happened?”
I tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
She pulled me inside.
I finally cried when she put a blanket around my shoulders.
Not gracefully.
Not quietly.
I cried so hard my chest hurt.
Megan sat beside me until I could breathe again.
Then I showed her the video.
She watched it once.
Her face hardened.
“I'm going to kill him.”
“No, you're not.”
“Fine. I'll hire someone.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
It lasted about two seconds.
Then I told her about the invoices.
Her expression changed.
“Rebecca, you need a lawyer.”
“I know.”
“Not tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow morning.”
I nodded.
At two seventeen, I woke to another message from Owen.
I made mistakes, but everything I built was for us.
I stared at those words.
Everything I built.
Not we.
Not the restaurants we nearly lost our health trying to save.
Not the business I had kept alive while working hospital shifts.
Everything I built.
At eight the next morning, I called an attorney named Allison Grant.
By eleven, I was sitting in her office.
She listened without interrupting.
Then she asked one question.
“Rebecca, whose name is on the operating agreements?”
“Both of ours.”
“Ownership percentages?”
“Fifty-fifty.”
She nodded.
“And who controls the bank accounts?”
“Both of us.”
“Who has administrator access to the accounting software?”
I opened my mouth.
Then stopped.
Because three months earlier, Owen had told me our IT consultant needed to migrate our systems.
He asked me to give him my login credentials.
I had.
Allison watched my expression.
“What is it?”
I swallowed.
“I think my husband has been using my account.”
She leaned forward.
“Then we need to preserve everything before anyone changes it.”
That afternoon, we secured copies of the records we could lawfully access and arranged for an independent forensic accountant.
At four thirty, Allison called me.
“Rebecca, we've found a company you need to know about.”
“What company?”
“Second Harvest Hospitality LLC.”
I'd never heard the name.
“Who owns it?”
There was a pause.
“Owen owns forty-nine percent.”
My stomach tightened.
“And the rest?”
“Camille Foster.”
I closed my eyes.
“Fifty-one percent?”
“Yes.”
Then Allison said something worse.
“Rebecca, Second Harvest has signed an agreement to acquire the Hale & Vine brand.”
I gripped the phone.
“That's impossible.”
“According to the documents, you approved the transaction.”
I stared at the wall.
“I didn't.”
“I believe you.”
I could hear papers moving.
“There's one more thing.”
“What?”
“The closing is scheduled for Monday.”
It was Friday.
May you like
My husband had not only betrayed me with his ex.
He was three days away from trying to take the business I'd sacrificed my career to build.
