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The Stranger Beside Me Knew the Husband I’d Escaped / Chapter 5 / 9

Chapter 5 — The Stranger Beside Me Knew the Husband I’d Escaped

4.9Editorial score

Then I looked at the carry-on in my hand.

‘Where is this secure place?’

Moretti nodded once.

That was my answer.

We moved through the terminal without visible hurry.

His two men remained several steps behind us.

No one touched me.

No one blocked my path.

When we reached a private lounge near the far end of the concourse, Moretti opened the door himself.

Inside was a quiet room with a table, four chairs, and windows overlooking the runway.

A woman in a gray suit was already waiting.

She introduced herself only as Elena and placed a leather portfolio on the table.

Moretti told me she handled legal matters.

That surprised me more than the bodyguards.

‘Legal?’

‘You’re going to want a witness who understands what you found.’

I sat slowly.

My hands shook as I unzipped the lining of my carry-on.

The blue folder was still there.

I placed it on the table.

Elena put on thin gloves before opening it.

For the next twenty minutes, she and Moretti examined each page while I watched their faces.

The further they read, the less either of them spoke.

Finally Elena slid one sheet toward me.

My name appeared beside an account I had never seen.

‘I don’t understand.’

She pointed to a signature.

It looked like mine.

It was not mine.

David had forged it.

More pages followed.

My name had been used on documents tied to transfers I knew nothing about.

Accounts had been opened and moved through entities that sounded legitimate but were not.

David had not merely hidden money from me.

He had used me as insulation.

A clean name.

A wife with no criminal history.

Someone he assumed would never leave and never ask questions.

I felt sick.

‘Can I be arrested for this?’

Elena answered carefully.

‘These documents create exposure.

They also create evidence that your identity and signature were used without your knowledge.’

‘Can you prove that?’

‘With the right examination, potentially.’

I looked at Moretti.

‘This is why David wants the folder.’

‘Partly.’

‘What does that mean?’

Elena turned another page.

There were handwritten notes in the margin.

David’s handwriting.

Dates.

Amounts.

Initials.

One set of initials appeared repeatedly.