Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
Richard was sitting at the kitchen island, his silver watch gleaming under the pendant light. He was typing rapidly, his brow furrowed in concentration. He did not look up when I walked into the kitchen, but his fingers paused on the keyboard.
“You were gone a long time,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar, fast corporate clip. “I called your mother’s house. Her housekeeper said you left before noon.”
“I went for a drive,” I said, walking to the counter and setting my purse down. “I needed to think, Richard.”
He closed his laptop with a sharp, decisive click. He turned his chair to face me, his hands resting on his knees. His expression shifted instantly from irritation to a soft, practiced concern.
“Laura, we cannot keep doing this,” he said, stepping toward me. “The trust distribution deadline is next week, and my attorney is pressing me for a response on the medical fitness filing. Margret Chen is refusing to cooperate, and it is only dragging this whole painful process out.”
