Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
He did not look at me as he approached. He kept his eyes on the tiled floor, his hand reaching into his pocket to check his silver watch.
“We have the signed decree from Judge Miller,” Margret said as they stopped three feet away. “We just need the final signature on the property release.”
Donald Vance laid the papers on the wide wooden ledge of the window. He handed Richard a black pen.
Richard hesitated, his hand hovering over the white paper. For a moment, his fast, persuasive corporate tone seemed entirely gone.
“You are keeping the house,” Richard said, his voice low and gravelly.
“The craftsman house belongs to my family,” I said. “My father bought it in nineteen seventy-four.”
Richard looked at me then, his eyes cold and narrow. “I spent five years remodeling those bathrooms, Laura.”
“With my money,” I said.
He did not argue. He pressed the pen to the paper and wrote his name in three quick, jagged strokes.
He handed the signed document to Donald, who immediately passed it to Margret. Margret inspected the signature, then nodded once.
“We are finished here,” Margret said.
