Chapter 5 - THE INSURANCE POLICY
I read the policy three times.
My name.
My date of birth.
My Social Security number.
A signature that looked like mine.
And an application date from eleven months earlier.
At that time, I had been living in our leaking apartment, trying to find enough money for Eli's winter coat.
Brent had come home for Thanksgiving.
He'd brought a grocery-store pumpkin pie and told me he was too exhausted to stay more than two nights.
I remembered feeling grateful.
Now I wondered what else he'd done during that visit.
Vanessa sat across from me at the kitchen table.
Eli slept in the next room.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Finally, I asked:
“Where did you find this?”
“In Brent's office.”
“Why were you looking?”
She swallowed.
“Because after you left, he told me you were mentally unstable.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course he did.
“He said you were an ex-girlfriend who couldn't accept that he'd moved on.”
I looked at her.
“And you believed him?”
“For about ten minutes.”
She gave a bitter laugh.
“Then I remembered how he reacted when you said you were his wife.”
Vanessa had searched the office after Brent left.
She found a locked drawer.
Inside were copies of my identification documents, financial records, and insurance paperwork.
There were also photographs of Eli.
Some had been taken from my social media accounts.
Others appeared to have been taken during Brent's visits.
Vanessa began crying.
“He told me those were pictures of his nephew.”
I stared at the photographs.
My son.
My beautiful little boy.
Reduced to another detail in his father's invented story.
Vanessa looked at me.
“Savannah, I need to tell you something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Brent has been asking me to sign documents.”
“What kind?”
“Business guarantees. Property transfers. Things I didn't understand.”
“Did you sign?”
“Some.”
She looked down.
“He told me we were building a future for our daughter.”
I felt something unexpected.
Not forgiveness.
Not friendship.
But recognition.
She had been manipulated too.
I asked about the insurance policy.
Vanessa explained that Brent had told her he was arranging financial protection for the family.
She hadn't known the insured woman was alive.
Or that she was his legal wife.
The next morning, Margaret reviewed the documents.
Her expression became increasingly serious.
“We need to determine whether this policy was actually issued and whether the application was fraudulent.”
I leaned forward.
“Do you think Brent wanted me dead?”
Margaret paused.
“We don't have evidence of that.”
I nodded.
“But this is concerning enough that we should report it.”
That afternoon, I filed a police report.
I provided the forged documents.
The insurance application.
The threatening messages.
And the details of Brent's second marriage.
An investigator named Detective Rachel Morgan listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she asked one question.
“Mrs. Whitaker, has your husband ever tried to persuade you to take a trip alone?”
I froze.
Three weeks earlier, Brent had suggested I spend a weekend at a mountain cabin.
He said I deserved a break.
He'd already reserved it.
I'd refused because I couldn't leave Eli.
I looked at Detective Morgan.
“Yes.”
May you like
Her expression changed.
“Tell me everything about that invitation.”
