Chapter 3 - Gathering the Ashes
The coffee shop in Riverton was loud, crowded, and perfectly anonymous. I arrived twenty minutes early, ordering a decaf tea I couldn't stomach. When Owen walked in, he looked relaxed in his casual Friday flannel. He sat down across from me, smiling. "So, what's this big secret? Are you planning a surprise party for Damon?" My heart shattered for him. I didn't use words to break his heart. I couldn't. I just slid my phone across the table.
The screen was bright, displaying the photograph I had taken in my bedroom. Owen stared at it. At first, his eyes registered confusion. He saw Damon's shirt and the unmade bed. Then, his eyes locked onto the bottom corner of the photo. The champagne lace. The tiny blue charm. He recognized it instantly, because he was the one who bought it. Then I swiped to the next photo. The security log. Six entries. Six dates. I swiped again. The $15,000 withdrawal for Aspen.
Owen didn't speak. He didn't yell. Instead, all the color drained from his face, leaving him pale and hollow. He pushed the phone back toward me, his hands trembling violently. "When?" was all he managed to whisper. "Tuesday," I replied softly. "I came home early from the ultrasound. She was hiding in my closet, Owen. While my husband put his clothes back on." A tear slipped down Owen's cheek, dropping onto the wooden table. "She told me she was going to the gym," he choked out. "On Tuesday. She said she was doing Pilates."
"I'm so sorry, Owen." He put his face in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking silently as the reality of twelve years of friendship and five years of his marriage burned to ash. We sat there for an hour, grieving together. But grief quickly curdled into rage. "What do we do?" Owen asked, his eyes bloodshot, his voice suddenly hard.
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"We don't let them win," I said. I pulled a thick folder out of my tote bag. "I spent the last two days meeting with a divorce attorney and a forensic accountant. Damon transferred that $15,000 from an account that holds my inheritance. That's illegal." Owen nodded slowly, wiping his face. "I own the deed to the house Claire and I live in," he said, his voice cold. "It was in my family before we married. She has no legal right to it."
"Good," I said. "My baby shower is in three weeks. Claire is hosting it. At her house. She invited fifty people. Damon’s parents. My parents. All our friends." Owen looked at me, understanding dawning in his eyes. "She wants to play the perfect godmother," he said darkly. "And Damon wants to play the perfect father," I added. I reached across the table and took his hand. "Let's give them an audience."
