He said nothing.
“They told me they had no record of any refinance application requiring my signature.”
His mouth opened slightly.
“So I started asking questions.”
I pulled out several folded papers.
“I discovered that the loan you took out wasn’t a mortgage refinance.”
His face drained of color.
“It was a personal business loan.”
Jessica looked at him.
“You told me it was a home loan.”
He didn’t answer her.
I continued.
“And the collateral wasn’t the apartment.”
My husband looked at me.
“What are you talking about?”
I unfolded the documents.
“The collateral was your company.”
He stared.
I watched the realization slowly appear in his eyes.
He had lied about everything.
He had used the apartment as an excuse.
He had created an entire story to make me believe I was responsible for his financial problems.
But there was something else.
Something I had discovered two days earlier.
“The bank also told me something interesting.”
He looked terrified now.
“What?”
“They told me you were trying to add me as a guarantor.”
His face went blank.
“That isn’t possible.”
“It is.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
I held up the document.
“You forged my signature.”
Nobody spoke.
Someone gasped.
Sarah covered her mouth.
My husband shook his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I would never—”
“You already did.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then we can let a handwriting expert decide.”
He looked at the paper.
Then at me.
Then at the thirty people watching.
His shoulders dropped.
For the first time that night, he looked defeated.
But I wasn’t finished.
Because the document wasn’t the worst thing in the envelope.
I pulled out another sheet.
“This is from your lawyer.”
His head snapped up.
“What?”
“You remember the consultation?”
He nodded.
“This is the invoice.”
He stared.
“That’s not possible.”
“You paid your lawyer with money from our joint account.”
His eyes widened.
I continued.
“Then you asked the lawyer to prepare divorce documents.”
He didn’t speak.
“And you told him you wanted the apartment.”
Silence.
“Not because you loved it.”
I looked him directly in the eyes.
“Because you believed I would leave it behind.”
His jaw tightened.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I placed the final document on the table.
“Because your lawyer sent me a copy.”
My husband stared at me.
“How?”
I smiled.
“Because you used my email address when you submitted the financial disclosure.”
His face turned white.
“You made one mistake.”
I stepped closer.
“You were so busy trying to make me feel insecure about Jessica that you forgot I was the person who paid the majority of the bills.”
