Chapter 6 - THE ACCOUNT THAT DIDN'T BELONG TO HIM
The morning after the canceled wedding, my phone contained forty-seven missed calls.
Daniel.
His mother.
His business partner.
Two reporters.
Three people I hadn't spoken to in years.
I turned it off.
Made coffee.
And sat on the balcony of my apartment.
For the first time in three years, I didn't have to organize my day around Daniel.
No reminders.
No appointments.
No last-minute changes.
Just silence.
At nine, Margaret Ellis called my landline.
“Emily, we need to meet.”
I swallowed.
“What's happened?”
“There's another account.”
My stomach tightened.
“What account?”
“A brokerage account opened using documents associated with your trust.”
I stared.
“Daniel?”
“We're investigating.”
At her office, Margaret showed me the records.
The account had been opened four months earlier.
It listed Daniel as an authorized representative.
It included a copy of my identification.
And a signature that looked like mine.
I stared.
“I never opened this.”
Margaret nodded.
“We know.”
The account had been used to support a proposed loan.
The collateral listed was a portion of Whitcomb Harbor.
I looked at Margaret.
“Can he do that?”
“Not lawfully without the required authorization. The lender has been notified of the dispute.”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel hadn't simply planned to wait until after the wedding.
He'd already begun creating a financial structure around property he didn't control.
Margaret continued.
“The lender has suspended the application pending review.”
I nodded.
Then she looked at me.
“Emily, I need to ask something difficult.”
“What?”
“Did Daniel ever pressure you to sign blank pages?”
I thought back.
Three months earlier, he'd brought home a stack of documents.
He said they were routine.
He'd placed sticky notes where I should sign.
I'd refused.
He'd laughed.
“Emily, you trust me, don't you?”
I'd smiled.
“Of course.”
Then I'd said I wanted Margaret to review them.
Daniel had become angry.
I looked at Margaret.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“That's important.”
That afternoon, Daniel arrived at my apartment.
I didn't let him in.
We spoke through the intercom.
“Emily, please.”
I closed my eyes.
“Daniel, leave.”
“We need to talk.”
“Through our attorneys.”
He laughed bitterly.
“After three years, that's what I get?”
I stared at the speaker.
“After eleven months of cheating and an attempted financial takeover, yes.”
Silence.
Then his voice changed.
“You think you're so clever.”
I swallowed.
“Goodbye, Daniel.”
I disconnected.
Then called building security.
That evening, I sat alone.
The apartment felt enormous.
For the first time, I allowed myself to cry.
Not because I wanted Daniel back.
May you like
Because I'd loved someone who had never existed.
And mourning an illusion was still mourning.
