Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
“Margret Chen called me yesterday,” Evelyn said, adjusting her shawl over her shoulders. “She said those forms gave Richard’s legal team access to your entire medical file, including every private session note.”
The implications hung in the quiet living room, cold and heavy.
“Why would he want those?” I asked.
Evelyn looked out at the rhododendron bushes in the garden. “To build a story, Laura. A story about a grieving woman who cannot manage her own inheritance.”
I reached into my purse and touched the folded receipt for the forty-five dollar diaper bag.
“He is spending my money on her already,” I said.
Evelyn turned back to me, her eyes dark. “Then you must let him believe he is winning until Margret can secure the files.”
The kitchen clock chimed eight when Richard entered, his leather briefcase sliding across the granite island. He smelled of rain and cedar shavings from a commercial construction site he had visited in Tacoma.
“The traffic on the bridge was miserable,” he said, loosening his silk tie. He checked his silver watch, a quick, habitual flick of his wrist.
