Chapter 5 - THE BEST FRIEND WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Ethan Mercer called me before I could call him.
“Rebecca, we need to talk.”
I stood outside the diner, watching cars move through the parking lot.
“About what?”
He hesitated.
“About what happened at the wedding.”
“Which part?”
“Come on.”
“Your best friend sleeping with another man's wife? The questionable invoices? Or the company that's trying to acquire my business using documents I never signed?”
Silence.
Then Ethan said, “I didn't know about the affair.”
I closed my eyes.
He had chosen his denial carefully.
“I didn't ask whether you knew about the affair.”
“Rebecca—”
“Did you prepare the Second Harvest acquisition documents?”
A long pause.
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“Did you know I hadn't agreed?”
“I was told you had.”
“By Owen.”
“Yes.”
“And you never called me?”
“Your husband represented that he was authorized to handle the transaction.”
“I'm a fifty-percent owner.”
“I understand.”
“No, Ethan. You understand now that I'm asking questions.”
He exhaled.
“Listen, there are things happening that you don't fully understand.”
I looked toward Lucas through the diner window.
He was staring at the same documents.
“Then explain them.”
“I can't discuss confidential client matters.”
“Then perhaps you should discuss them with my attorney.”
His voice sharpened.
“Rebecca, don't turn this into something bigger than it needs to be.”
There it was again.
The warning disguised as concern.
I ended the call.
That afternoon, Allison reviewed the new documents.
Her expression grew increasingly serious.
“Ethan may have a significant conflict of interest.”
“Because he represents Owen?”
“Because his consulting entity appears to have received money connected to the transaction. We need to establish exactly what services were provided and whether the payments were legitimate.”
I nodded.
“Can we prove the signatures aren't mine?”
“We're working on it.”
She turned her laptop toward me.
An electronic signature certificate appeared.
My name.
My email address.
A date and time.
11:42 p.m. on February third.
I remembered February third.
I had been in Chicago visiting my mother after her knee replacement.
Owen had stayed home.
“Can we prove where I was?”
“Hotel records, phone location history if available, witness statements. But there's another issue.”
“What?”
“The document was signed using your business email account.”
I felt sick.
Owen knew my passwords.
He had access to my laptop.
He knew the answers to my security questions.
We had been married eleven years.
I had never imagined that trusting my husband with my passwords could become evidence against me.
Allison leaned forward.
“Rebecca, don't access his devices or accounts without authorization. Let us obtain the records properly.”
I nodded.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Owen.
I need to see you. Please. Just us.
I stared at it.
Allison watched me.
“You don't have to respond.”
“I know.”
But I did.
Tomorrow. Noon. Public place.
He replied immediately.
Thank you.
I didn't answer.
The next morning, I arrived at a café in downtown Milwaukee.
Owen was already there.
He looked terrible.
Unshaven.
Wrinkled shirt.
Red eyes.
For one foolish second, I wanted to reach across the table and ask whether he'd eaten.
Eleven years of caring for someone doesn't disappear because they hurt you.
It just becomes painful.
“Becca,” he whispered.
I sat.
“What do you want?”
He looked at my hands.
“You took off your ring.”
“Yes.”
His eyes filled.
“I never wanted this.”
I looked at him.
“Which part?”
He swallowed.
“Losing you.”
“You made choices for eighteen months.”
He closed his eyes.
“Camille told you.”
“Yes.”
He rubbed his face.
“It started as friendship.”
I said nothing.
“She was having problems with Lucas. I was stressed. We talked.”
“And then?”
“It got complicated.”
“No, Owen. Payroll taxes are complicated. Infidelity is a decision.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
I waited.
Then he said, “Second Harvest was supposed to protect the business.”
“From what?”
“Financial problems.”
“What financial problems?”
He hesitated.
“Expansion debt.”
I stared at him.
“We haven't opened a new location in two years.”
“I was planning another.”
“Without telling me?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
I almost laughed.
A surprise.
Like a birthday cake.
Except this surprise involved hundreds of thousands of dollars and forged authorization.
“Owen, I'm going to ask you something. I want a truthful answer.”
He nodded.
“Did you use my signature without permission?”
His eyes filled.
“Becca—”
“Yes or no.”
He looked away.
And that was my answer.
I stood.
He grabbed my wrist.
Not hard.
But enough.
“Please don't leave.”
I looked down at his hand.
He released me immediately.
“I love you,” he said.
I believed he believed that.
And somehow, that made it worse.
“Then why did you do this?”
His voice broke.
“Because I thought you'd never leave.”
I stared at him.
There it was.
Not passion.
Not confusion.
Not some grand tragic romance.
Entitlement.
He thought my loyalty was permanent, regardless of what he did with it.
I picked up my purse.
“You were wrong.”
As I turned away, he said something that stopped me.
“Rebecca, there's a reason Ethan helped.”
I looked back.
Owen's face was gray.
“He's in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
May you like
Owen swallowed.
“Enough trouble that Camille and I weren't the only ones hiding money.”
