Chapter 3 - What Jeremy Had Been HidingJeremy arrived at Mr. Lawrence's office that afternoon.
He looked exhausted.
Edith wasn't with him.
That surprised me.
He sat across from me.
“Blaire, I never wanted this.”
“What didn't you want?”
“This situation.”
“You created it.”
“No.”
“You knew the house belonged to me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about my father's trust.”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“How?”
“My mother found the documents.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“And you didn't tell me.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Losing you.”
I almost laughed.
“You were afraid of losing access to my money.”
“That isn't fair.”
“Then tell me why you contacted a consultant about accessing my inheritance.”
He looked down.
“I was curious.”
“You asked what would happen if I died.”
His face changed.
“I didn't mean it that way.”
“There is no good way to mean that.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“My mother pushed me.”
There it was.
The excuse.
Edith.
Always Edith.
“She told me you were going to leave me.”
“Were you afraid I would?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you had become independent.”
I stared at him.
“So your solution was to make me dependent again?”
He didn't answer.
I stood.
“I'm done.”
“Blaire, wait.”
I stopped.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“I didn't know she would turn off the power.”
“You watched her.”
“I didn't think she would do it.”
“You didn't stop her.”
He lowered his head.
“No.”
“That is enough.”
I walked out.
But before I reached the elevator, Mr. Lawrence called me.
“Blaire.”
I turned.
“We found another document.”
He handed me a copy.
It was a life insurance policy.
My name was the insured party.
Jeremy was the beneficiary.
The policy was worth $5 million.
I stared at it.
“When was this taken out?”
“Eight months ago.”
I felt nauseous.
“Who authorized it?”
“Jeremy.”
I looked at him.
He didn't deny it.
“I thought it was normal,” he whispered.
“Not without telling your wife.”
“I planned to change it.”
“When?”
“I don't know.”
I handed the document back.
“That's enough.”
I walked away.
That night, I didn't sleep.
I kept thinking about my father's letter.
Never confuse love with surrender.
Maybe he had known.
Maybe he had understood that one day I would need those words.
The next morning, I received a call from an unknown number.
A woman spoke.
“Is this Blaire Hutson?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Teresa.”
“Who are you?”
“I used to work for Jeremy.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“At the construction company.”
“What do you want?”
“I think you need to know what your husband has been doing.”
I sat down.
“What did he do?”
“He opened a separate company.”
“When?”
“About a year ago.”
“Why?”
“He used company resources to fund it.”
“How much?”
“Nearly two million dollars.”
I closed my eyes.
“Where did the money come from?”
“Accounts connected to your projects.”
My blood ran cold.
“Do you have proof?”
“Yes.”
“Send it to my attorney.”
“I already did.”
A file arrived minutes later.
Invoices.
Transfers.
Emails.
And one document that made me sit perfectly still.
A plan.
A development project in Miami.
Jeremy had created it using my business contacts.
And the listed owner was not Jeremy.
It was Edith Jameson.
My mother-in-law.
I whispered:
May you like
“They weren't just living off me.”
They had been building their own empire with my money.
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