Chapter 3 - The Woman Behind the Secret HouseThe next morning, Claire drove me to the county courthouse.
She had requested property records connected to Northstar Property Holdings.
We found four properties.
Three were investment properties.
The fourth was the house Brandon had been secretly preparing.
A two-story brick house with a white porch and a detached garage.
Purchased six weeks earlier.
The mortgage was paid almost entirely in cash.
The money came from our joint account.
I stared at the documents.
“Why would he buy a house?”
Claire didn't answer.
She turned another page.
There was a name listed as an emergency contact.
Jessica Hart.
I recognized it.
My heart sank.
Jessica had worked at Brandon's office for nearly two years.
She had attended our anniversary dinner.
She had hugged me.
She had called me “sis.”
I remembered her telling me how lucky she was to work for a boss like Brandon.
I remembered how she always seemed to know when he was traveling.
How she sometimes texted him late at night.
How he told me it was work.
Claire looked at me.
“Do you know her?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“I thought she was his assistant.”
Claire nodded.
“She owns the new house.”
“What?”
“The LLC purchased it.”
“But the property records show a residential occupancy agreement.”
“Who's listed as occupant?”
Claire looked at me.
“Jessica Hart.”
I closed my eyes.
The betrayal wasn't a surprise anymore.
It was a confirmation.
For months, perhaps years, Brandon had been building another life.
The secret account.
The property company.
The house.
Jessica.
And my mother's arrival had apparently threatened his plan.
He needed her gone.
Then he needed me gone.
The accusation was simply convenient.
We returned to the hotel.
My mother was sitting by the window with a cup of tea.
She looked exhausted.
“I owe you an apology,” she said.
“For what?”
“I should never have moved in.”
I sat beside her.
“Mom, none of this is your fault.”
“He hit me because of me.”
“No.”
I took her hand.
“He hit you because he chose to.”
She looked down.
Then she whispered:
“I knew something was wrong.”
I froze.
“What?”
“With Brandon.”
“What did you know?”
“Your father noticed things before he died.”
My heart started pounding.
“What things?”
Mom hesitated.
“Your father didn't trust Brandon.”
I had never heard that before.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father asked me not to interfere.”
“Why?”
“He said you were happy.”
I looked away.
Was I?
Had I simply mistaken stability for happiness?
My mother reached into her purse.
She pulled out a small envelope.
“This was your father's.”
I opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Elena, if you ever find yourself questioning whether someone loves you, look at what they do when they think you cannot see them.
My eyes filled with tears.
There was more.
Trust actions, not promises.
I folded the paper.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Brandon.
Your mother has until tonight to collect her things.
I stared at it.
Claire took the phone.
She read the message.
Then smiled.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“He just gave us another piece of evidence.”
“For what?”
“Harassment. Control. And possibly intimidation.”
I didn't respond.
Instead, I opened my banking app.
There was a new notification.
A transfer attempt.
Someone had tried to move $25,000 from another account.
But the bank had blocked it.
Because Claire had already notified them.
For the first time since leaving my house, I felt something other than fear.
I felt prepared.
Then Claire received an email.
She read it silently.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“Jessica Hart just hired an attorney.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
Claire handed me the screen.
The attorney's letter demanded that I stop “harassing” Jessica and claimed Brandon had been financially independent from me for years.
I stared at the words.
Then I noticed one sentence.
Mr. Miller maintains that all funds transferred to Northstar Property Holdings were his separate property.
I looked at Claire.
“He's claiming the money was his?”
“Yes.”
“But half of that money came from my salary.”
“I know.”
“Then we'll prove it.”
Claire closed her laptop.
“That is exactly what we're going to do.”
May you like
But neither of us knew that the next document we discovered would reveal something far worse than an affair.
It would reveal that Brandon had planned the entire separation almost a year before he ever slapped my mother.
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