Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
“He lied,” I said.
“He framed it,” James corrected. “A judge looking at this doesn’t see a supportive husband. They see a woman who can’t buy groceries without a handler.”
James turned another blue tab in the folder, revealing a stack of printed emails.
“Do you remember Dr. Robert Finch?” James asked.
“Richard insisted I see him,” I said. “He said Finch was the best grief counselor in the city for women who had lost pregnancies.”
“He was,” James said. “But he was also Richard’s former client from a commercial sale in South Lake Union.”
I looked down at the first printed email, dated November eighth of last year, sent from Richard’s private address.
Dear Robert, the email began. Thank you for taking Laura’s case on such short notice. As we discussed, she is experiencing severe delusional episodes regarding her family history and inheritance.
My fingers went cold against the paper.
“Delusional,” I whispered.
“Read the next one,” James said.
I turned the page to an email dated February fourth.
Robert, I have deposited the additional fifteen hundred dollars into your personal account, Richard had written. Please ensure your monthly progress reports emphasize her ongoing emotional instability and her dependence on my financial guidance.
