Chapter 7 - THE FILE IN THE WRONG DRAWER
The first serious crack in Daniel's business appeared two weeks later.
I discovered it by accident.
Or perhaps not entirely by accident.
I had been looking for our property tax documents in the study when I found a folder labeled:
MERCER LOGISTICS — STRATEGIC PARTNERSHIP REVIEW.
I wasn't authorized to examine Daniel's confidential business files, so I left it closed.
But beneath it lay a household financial statement bearing both our names.
That document was mine to review.
I opened it.
And found something I didn't understand.
A large transfer had been made from an investment account associated with our marital assets into a company called Eastbridge Holdings.
The amount was substantial.
More than I had earned in all my years at the nonprofit.
I contacted Rebecca Sloan.
She reviewed the statement.
“Do you recognize Eastbridge?”
“No.”
“Have you approved any investment involving it?”
“No.”
Rebecca made a note.
“We'll need to determine what this entity is and whether the transfer was authorized under the account's terms.”
I nodded.
Then asked:
“Could Daniel have used our money to support his company?”
“Possibly. But we need documentation before drawing conclusions.”
The next day, Rebecca obtained publicly available corporate records.
Eastbridge Holdings was connected to a private investment partnership.
One of its listed executives was Elise Warren.
The woman in the scarlet dress.
I stared at the screen.
My husband's business interests.
Our shared money.
And the woman he'd walked out with at the gala.
All connected.
I felt sick.
Rebecca watched me.
“Claire, don't confront him until we understand the transaction.”
I nodded.
But my hands were shaking.
That evening, Daniel came home carrying flowers.
White roses.
My least favorite.
He kissed my cheek.
“Thought we could have a quiet dinner.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
He frowned.
“Because you're my wife.”
I studied his face.
Then asked:
“Daniel, what is Eastbridge Holdings?”
The flowers slipped slightly in his hand.
For one second, he looked frightened.
Then his expression hardened.
“Where did you hear that name?”
May you like
I knew then that the answer mattered.
Far more than the flowers.
