Brenda did not answer Gavin's calls.
By midnight, he had tried nine times.
I knew because he told me.
I told him to stop calling.
“She left,” he said.
“Then give her space.”
“You don't understand.”
“No, Gavin. You don't understand.”
I stood in my living room with Ethan beside me.
“You spent years making other people's silence mean whatever frightened you most. Don't do it again.”
He was quiet.
I continued.
“Her leaving does not prove she stole anything.”
“She had access to Marcus's account.”
“Yes.”
“She lied about recognizing it.”
“Maybe.”
“You don't believe that.”
“I believe facts when we have facts.”
He exhaled.
“When did you become so calm?”
“After divorcing you.”
Ethan covered his mouth to hide a laugh.
I gave him a look.
Gavin actually laughed.
It was short and tired.
“Fair.”
“Go home.”
“It's my home.”
“Then be there.”
“Alone.”
The word slipped out.
For the first time, I heard what frightened him beneath the anger.
Not money.
Not Marcus.
Not even Brenda's possible betrayal.
Alone.
Five years earlier, he had chosen Brenda while telling himself he was moving toward something.
Now, if she had lied about the beginning, he might have to reconsider the foundation of everything that followed.
“Gavin.”
“Yes?”
“Do not turn this into a conclusion before you have evidence.”
“I won't.”
“You will.”
He sighed.
“I'm trying.”
“Then try harder.”
We ended the call.
Ethan sat on the sofa.
“You realize that conversation would have been unimaginable six years ago.”
“Yes.”
“You ordering Gavin to emotionally regulate himself.”
“I didn't order him.”
“You absolutely did.”
I sat beside him.
“You enjoyed that.”
“A little.”
I rested my head against his shoulder.
“Do you think Brenda took the money?”
“I think she knew about the account.”
“That's not the same thing.”
“No.”
“Why would she have authorization?”
“Maybe Marcus needed someone he trusted.”
“Why her?”
“Maybe he knew her separately.”
I sat up.
“What if he did?”
Ethan looked at me.
“What?”
“Gavin assumed Marcus and Brenda only knew each other through him.”
“Did they?”
“I don't know.”
“You could ask Gavin.”
“I don't want to call him again.”
“Miracles continue.”
I nudged him.
Then another thought surfaced.
“Mom.”
“What about her?”
“She wrote that she wasn't sure Marcus controlled the account.”
“Yes.”
“What if Marcus told her someone else did?”
Ethan's expression sharpened.
“Brenda.”
“Maybe.”
He leaned back.
“Your mother's notes might tell us.”
“My father's copying them tomorrow.”
I stopped.
Then stood.
“What?”
“There's something else.”
I grabbed my purse.
“Where are you going?”
“To Dad's.”
“Nora.”
“What?”
“It’s almost one.”
“I know.”
He stood.
“And you're criticizing Gavin for emotional regulation?”
“I am very regulated.”
“You're holding your keys like a weapon.”
“I need Mom's folder.”
“Tomorrow.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because I remember something.”
“What?”
“When Dad brought out the accordion file, there was another pocket behind the statements.”
“So?”
“I didn't check it.”
Ethan stared.
“That's your reason?”
“Yes.”
“At one in the morning.”
“Yes.”
He picked up his jacket.
“I’m driving.”
“I can drive.”
“I know.”
“You don't trust me?”
“I trust you completely. I also know you will spend the entire drive thinking instead of seeing traffic lights.”
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
“Fine.”
Dad was awake when we arrived.
Of course he was.
He opened the door in pajamas.
“I figured you might come back.”
“That is irritating.”
“You're your mother's daughter.”
He handed me the accordion folder before I asked.
“I found something after you left.”
My pulse jumped.
“What?”
“A second envelope.”
He led us into the kitchen.
On the table sat a small white envelope.
No name.
No date.
It had been sealed, then opened.
“You read it?”
Dad nodded.
“I think you should.”
I sat.
Ethan remained standing behind me.
Inside was a single page.
Mom's handwriting.
This one was not addressed to me.
It was addressed to Marcus.
Mr. Vale,
I will not meet you again. If what you told me is true, then you need to take it to the police or to an attorney. I am not willing to keep information from my daughter indefinitely, and I will not participate in anything that requires deceiving her further.
I stopped.
“Meet you again.”
Dad nodded.
“She met him.”
I kept reading.
You claim Gavin does not know where the missing client money went. You claim Brenda helped you move funds because she believed Gavin intended to force you out and leave you responsible for company debts. You also claim some of those funds were placed temporarily into accounts connected to Brenda so they could not be seized by lenders.
My hands began trembling.
Ethan pulled out the chair beside me.
“Nora.”
“I’m fine.”
I continued.
I do not know whether any of this is true. What I know is that money from my daughter's marriage entered an account you controlled, and Brenda had authority over that account. If she knew the source of that money, then she owes Nora an explanation.
I lowered the paper.
Dad looked sick.
“So Mom knew Brenda was involved.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
Dad shook his head.
“I don't know.”
I continued reading.
The final lines were the most disturbing.
Marcus, you said there was proof Gavin did not know about several transfers made in his name. If that proof exists, send it to his attorney. Do not send it to me. I will not become the keeper of another family's secrets.
No signature beyond E. Hayes.
I read it again.
Gavin did not know about several transfers made in his name.
I looked at Ethan.
“He may have been telling the truth.”
“About which part?”
“The company money.”
Dad sat opposite us.
“Not about your savings.”
“No.”
That distinction mattered.
Gavin had moved our money.
No document erased that.
But if Marcus and Brenda had been moving company funds separately, then Gavin's financial collapse might have been more complicated than he knew.
I called him.
This time he answered immediately.
“Did Brenda come back?” I asked.
“No.”
“I found another letter.”
Silence.
“From your mother?”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
I read the relevant lines.
When I finished, Gavin did not speak for several seconds.
Then he asked, “She wrote Brenda’s name?”
“Yes.”
“And Marcus said I didn't know?”
“Yes.”
His breathing became audible.
“Gavin.”
“I spent four years believing Marcus stole from me.”
“He may have.”
“I spent five years believing Brenda met him only twice.”
“That may have been a lie.”
“She told me she hated him.”
I closed my eyes.
People often hated the people they feared exposing them.
“What do you want to do?”
he asked.
“Nothing tonight.”
“I can call Marcus's sister.”
“No.”
“Nora.”
“No.”
“She may have the proof.”
“And she will still have it tomorrow.”
He was silent.
Then, unexpectedly, he said, “You're right.”
Ethan raised his eyebrows.
I nearly smiled.
“Good.”
“There’s one thing I need to tell you.”
“What?”
“The apartment.”
My stomach tightened.
“What about it?”
“The one I rented for Brenda before the divorce.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't find it.”
“What does that mean?”
“Brenda found it.”
I frowned.
“She picked the building?”
“Yes.”
“She handled the lease?”
“Yes.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because the deposit came through Marcus's account.”
I sat very still.
“You told me you paid for it.”
“I thought I did.”
“How can you think you paid for something?”
“Because Brenda told me she transferred the money from the account I gave her access to.”
“What account?”
“Our savings.”
I stared at the table.
“She had access to our savings?”
“I gave her temporary authorization.”
My voice dropped.
“You gave your mistress access to our joint savings account.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds exactly like what it was.”
“I was planning to move out. I needed her to handle the deposit because I was traveling.”
I closed my eyes.
“Continue.”
“The amount leaving our account matched the deposit.”
“But?”
“But now I see it was routed first through Marcus's account.”
Ethan leaned closer.
“Ask him whether Brenda initiated the transfer.”
I repeated the question.
Gavin paused.
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“Then Brenda moved money from our account into Marcus's.”
“Yes.”
“And from Marcus's to the apartment.”
“Yes.”
“So she had access to both.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
I could hear something breaking inside him.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
The way certainty breaks.
“Did you ever give Marcus permission to use our savings?”
“No.”
“Did you give Brenda permission to move money anywhere except the apartment?”
“No.”
“Then some of what you thought you did…”
“I may not have done.”
The words sounded painful.
I did not comfort him.
Accountability was not a single confession.
Sometimes it meant learning you were guilty of one thing but not another.
Sometimes it meant discovering the person you betrayed your wife for may have been deceiving you at the same time.
“Tomorrow,” I said, “we contact Marcus's sister.”
“Yes.”
“Together.”
“Yes.”
“And we don't accuse Brenda of anything until we see records.”
He exhaled.
“Yes.”
“Where do you think she went?”
“I don't know.”
“Family?”
“She doesn't speak to her sister much.”
“Friends?”
“Maybe.”
“Would she leave town?”
“I don't know.”
There it was again.
I don't know.
Gavin had built a life with Brenda for nearly six years.
Yet the phrase kept returning.
I wondered how much of her he actually knew.
The next morning, we met at Harbor Hope.
Ethan came with me.
Gavin arrived carrying a laptop.
My father brought Mom's notes.
At nine fifteen, Gavin called Marcus Vale’s sister.
Her name was Celia.
She answered after three rings.
“Hello?”
“Celia. It's Gavin Albright.”
Silence.
Then a voice hardened.
“I wondered if you'd ever call.”
We all looked at one another.
Gavin switched to speaker.
“I'm calling about Marcus's files.”
“I know.”
His face changed.
“How?”
“Because your wife called me last night.”
Nobody moved.
Gavin whispered, “Brenda?”
“Yes.”
“What did she want?”
Celia laughed without humor.
“The same thing you want.”
“What?”
“The box Marcus left.”
Gavin gripped the edge of the table.
“Did you give it to her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Marcus left instructions.”
My pulse quickened.
“What instructions?” Gavin asked.
Celia paused.
“He said if Brenda ever came looking for those records, I was to call Nora Hayes.”
The room went completely silent.
I leaned toward the phone.
“This is Nora.”
Celia inhaled.
“Oh.”
“You know my name?”
“I've known it for years.”
“Why?”
“Because my brother said you were the only person in the whole mess who hadn't chosen to lie.”
I closed my eyes.
“Where are the files?”
“Safe.”
“Can we see them?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Today.”
“Where?”
Another pause.
Then Celia said something none of us expected.
“Not at my house.”
“Why?”
“Because Brenda wasn't the first person who came looking.”
Gavin frowned.
“Who else?”
“I don't know his name.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“What did he look like?”
“I didn't see him.”
“Then how do you know someone came?”
“Because my back door was forced open.”
My father stood.
Celia continued.
“And whoever came in knew exactly where Marcus used to keep his records.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: Celia’s Hidden Box Contained Marcus’s Private Ledger, but the First Name Beside Brenda’s Was Someone We All Trusted
Five Years After Gavin Left Me Behind, One Wedding Put Us Face-to-Face With the Lives We Had Chosen
Part 8 of 35
