Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
Margret pushed three copies of the divorce petition and the asset division agreement toward Donald. “We require his signature on every page of section four.”
Donald took the documents and his gold pen, then left the room without another word.
I watched the door close again. The forty-one thousand dollars was gone, but the five million dollar trust was intact.
“Is it over?” I asked Margret.
“Not until the judge signs the final decree,” Margret said, looking at her desk calendar. “That will take exactly twenty-one days.”
Twenty-one days. I looked down at my lap, where my fingers were still twisted around my wedding band.
The hallway of the King County Courthouse smelled of wet wool and floor wax. It was eleven in the morning on the first Tuesday of November.
Margret stood beside me near the high arched windows, holding a manila folder against her chest. We had been waiting for forty minutes.
Richard appeared at the far end of the corridor, flanked by Donald Vance. He wore his dark grey suit, the one he always wore for important commercial closings.
