Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
The response from Dr. Finch was short.
Understood, Richard. The assessment will reflect her lack of capacity to make major decisions at this stage.
“He paid him,” I said, the realization settling into my bones like winter rain.
“Three separate payments of fifteen hundred dollars,” James said. “None of them came from your joint account. He used the secret account in Renton.”
“Every session I spent crying in that office,” I said, “Finch was taking notes for Richard’s files.”
“Yes,” James said. “The doctor’s official evaluation is already attached to the court filings Richard’s lawyer is preparing.”
“I trusted him,” I said. “I told him things I never told anyone else. I told him how much I missed my father.”
“And Richard used those sessions to build his case,” James said.
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out another sheet of paper, sliding it over the emails.
“This is the draft of the petition his lawyer prepared,” James said. “It requests an emergency guardianship over your estate, citing your history of severe clinical depression and emotional instability.”
“On what grounds?” I asked.
