Chapter 3 - The Woman Before Me
The number thirteen stared back at me.
I called Natalie immediately.
“Was Sarah married to Daniel?”
“That’s what she claims.”
“He told me he’d never been married.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I reviewed the marriage disclosures you gave me this morning.”
I felt sick.
Daniel had lied.
Not about an old girlfriend.
Not about a forgotten relationship.
A marriage.
“Is she telling the truth?”
“I’m verifying it.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“She asked to speak with you.”
Twenty minutes later, Sarah Mitchell appeared on my phone screen.
She was thirty-seven, with dark hair pulled into a simple ponytail.
She looked nervous.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“For contacting you like this.”
“You said you married Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“What happened?”
Sarah looked away.
“Thirteen days after our wedding, he shoved me into a kitchen cabinet.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why?”
“I bought the wrong coffee for his mother.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Sarah continued.
“Margaret said I was dramatic. Michael said Daniel was stressed. Richard said almost nothing.”
Exactly the same pattern.
“What happened after that?”
“I left.”
“Immediately?”
“No.”
That single word contained years.
Sarah stayed eleven months.
The violence didn’t happen every day.
That was part of what confused her.
Daniel apologized.
Bought flowers.
Promised counseling.
Then he controlled money.
Her clothes.
Her friends.
Where she went.
When she finally filed for divorce, the Carter family told everyone she was unstable.
“Why didn’t I find anything about the marriage?”
“Because I changed my name back and moved. The divorce wasn’t some celebrity scandal. Daniel doesn’t advertise it.”
“Why contact me now?”
Sarah swallowed.
“Richard called me.”
That surprised me.
“He still had your number?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He apologized after my divorce. Years later.”
I stared at her.
“Did Daniel try to get you to sign anything?”
Sarah became very still.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“A postnuptial agreement.”
My skin prickled.
“What was in it?”
“My father had left me money. Daniel wanted control over part of it.”
“Did he forge your signature?”
“No. But he pressured me for months.”
I thought about my grandmother’s house.
“What happened when you refused?”
Sarah looked directly into the camera.
“He became worse.”
The next morning, Natalie confirmed the marriage.
Daniel Carter and Sarah Mitchell had legally married and divorced.
The records were real.
So were Sarah’s photographs.
Natalie placed the papers on her desk.
“This doesn’t automatically determine what happens in your divorce. But it matters to you personally, and any relevant pattern of conduct or financial documents can be evaluated properly.”
I nodded.
“I’m done.”
“You already sounded done yesterday.”
“Yesterday I was leaving because he hit me. Today I know he built our marriage on lies.”
Natalie slid another document toward me.
“This is more important legally.”
It was a property search.
Someone had recently requested valuation records for my grandmother’s land.
“Who?”
“A development company called Horizon Ridge.”
I knew the name.
They had offered me $780,000 the previous year.
I had declined.
“They contacted Daniel?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Natalie pointed to another line.
“But three weeks before your wedding, someone from Daniel’s business email requested an updated valuation.”
I felt my throat tighten.
Before our wedding.
He had been planning something.
My grandmother’s property had recently increased in value because of a proposed commercial development nearby.
A new estimate placed it above $1.1 million.
Suddenly the forged agreement made sense.
Not emotionally.
Financially.
Daniel wanted leverage over an asset he didn’t own.
I remembered a conversation from our honeymoon.
We had been lying beside the hotel pool when he said, casually, “Once we’re settled, we should consolidate everything.”
I had smiled.
“Everything?”
“Accounts. Investments. Property. We’re married now.”
I had kissed him and said we could discuss it later.
He had gone quiet.
At the time, I thought I had hurt his feelings.
Now I wondered whether I had disrupted a schedule.
That evening, Margaret called from another number.
I answered.
“Emily.”
“What do you want?”
“To stop this childish nonsense.”
I almost admired her confidence.
“Your son hit me.”
“He made a mistake.”
“Then why are you angry at me?”
“Because marriage requires maturity.”
“So does keeping your hands to yourself.”
She sighed.
“You have always been stubborn.”
“We’ve known each other two years.”
“Exactly.”
I nearly laughed.
Margaret continued.
“Daniel loves you.”
“No.”
“You’re emotional.”
“No.”
“You’re allowing Rachel and some lawyer to poison you.”
“No.”
The repeated word infuriated her.
“You think walking away makes you powerful?”
“No. Walking away makes me safe.”
Silence.
Then her voice changed.
“Be careful, Emily.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
I ended the call.
Two minutes later, Natalie texted.
Do not communicate with them unless necessary. Preserve everything.
I forwarded Margaret’s call details.
Then I went with Rachel to my grandmother’s house.
I hadn’t visited in months.
The little white house sat on five acres, surrounded by old trees and memories.
Grandma had taught me to bake in that kitchen.
She had held me there when my parents divorced.
She had paid my college application fees from a jar she kept above the refrigerator.
Daniel had once called the place “unused equity.”
I should have heard the warning in those words.
Rachel helped me check the windows and doors.
Everything seemed normal.
Until we reached Grandma’s study.
A drawer in the old desk was open.
I never left it open.
Inside, papers had been disturbed.
“What was here?” Rachel asked.
“Property documents.”
“Are they missing?”
I checked.
The deed was there.
Tax records.
Old surveys.
But one folder was gone.
“What?”
“Grandma’s original appraisal and correspondence with developers.”
Rachel looked toward the door.
“Who has a key?”
“Me.”
Then I remembered.
Daniel.
I had given him a spare six months earlier.
My phone vibrated.
Security alert.
Someone had just attempted to log into my email.
Then another notification appeared.
A motion sensor at my married home had detected movement.
I opened the camera app.
Daniel walked into his study.
Margaret followed.
Michael came behind her carrying a cardboard box.
They shut the door.
The audio was faint.
I turned up the volume.
Margaret’s voice became clear.
“She knows about Sarah.”
Daniel answered.
“That doesn’t matter.”
Michael asked, “What about the agreement?”
Daniel opened the box.
My heart began pounding.
Inside were folders.
One had my grandmother’s name written across the tab.
May you like
Then Daniel said six words that made Rachel grab my arm.
“She can’t divorce me before Monday.”
