“Will she be okay with waiting?”

“She is not placing any expectations on you, Claire.”

I lifted the jar carefully. “Then I would like to bring this home.”

“I know she will be delighted to hear that,” Samantha replied.

Our conversation eventually returned to the consulting firm’s complicated accounting records.

Samuel Ortiz, the forensic accountant working with Samantha, joined us through an encrypted video conference.

He appeared to be in his late thirties, wore tidy glasses, and spoke with the steady precision of someone experienced in helping worried clients understand complicated financial information.

“Let me begin with some reassuring news,” Samuel said, adjusting his monitor. “Nothing I have examined suggests that the consulting company is currently insolvent.”

“Then what have you discovered that should concern us?” I asked.

“There are significant weaknesses in the company’s financial supervision and internal accounting procedures,” he explained.

He displayed his computer screen, revealing an extensive spreadsheet.

Most of the questionable business expenditures belonged to three categories: unusually high travel costs, private purchases charged to corporate accounts, and repeated electronic payments to Crestview Residential Services.

“Have you managed to identify Crestview Residential Services?” I asked anxiously.

“Yes, we have confirmed the identity of that company,” Samuel replied.

My stomach tightened as I waited for him to continue.

“I can also confirm that the business is not connected directly to your mother-in-law,” he added.

Only then did I realize how strongly I had suspected Brenda was secretly receiving those funds, and I felt a surprising sense of relief.

“So what exactly does that company do?” I asked.

“It operates as an upscale residential property management business in this area,” Samuel explained.

“And which residence is it responsible for managing?”

He selected another document, revealing a complete street address.

742 Crestview Lane, Unit 4B.

I did not recognize the address immediately.

“Our findings show that Gavin has been covering recurring expenses associated with the residence at that location,” Samuel explained.

“What kind of residence are we discussing?” I asked.

“A luxury condominium containing two bedrooms,” Samuel answered.

Chloe glanced toward me, her eyes widening with concern.

I understood her reaction because my own thoughts were moving toward the very same troubling possibilities.

Unexplained hotel expenses, an expensive condominium nobody had mentioned, and substantial sums leaving the business accounts every month.

But Samuel continued before I could draw any conclusions from those details.

“The condominium’s registered legal owner is a woman named Patricia Thornton,” Samuel explained.

“Patricia Thornton?” I repeated, startled. “Are you talking about Gavin’s Aunt Patricia?”

Samuel confirmed with a nod.

Throughout our six-year marriage, Gavin had mentioned his Aunt Patricia only a handful of times.

She was Brenda’s older sister, and according to family conversations, she had a reputation for being exceptionally stubborn and frequently taking offense at other people’s remarks.

“Why would Gavin be responsible for paying the expenses on her condominium?” I asked, completely confused.

“The accounting information does not establish his reasons for making those payments,” Samuel explained.

He enlarged several detailed invoices on the shared screen.

The expenses included ordinary plumbing maintenance, property tax payments, regular homeowners association fees, and the replacement of an aging water heater.

None of those charges appeared particularly lavish or suspicious in the manner I had originally imagined.

They were simply surprisingly costly.

“So you’re telling me he paid nearly seventy thousand dollars toward maintaining her condominium?” I asked.

“Yes, over eighteen months, particularly because the building imposed one unusually substantial special assessment,” Samuel verified.

“Why would he deliberately conceal that information from me?” I wondered aloud.

Samuel thoughtfully adjusted his glasses. “Only Gavin can properly explain his reasons for doing that.”

Once the video conference ended, I remained seated, studying the financial calculations spread across the table.

Understanding where the money had gone did nothing to justify Gavin’s dishonesty.

In fact, the explanation left me upset for an entirely different reason.

Helping a relative experiencing health difficulties could have been perfectly understandable, yet he had never trusted me enough to discuss the situation honestly.

Or perhaps, even more troubling, he had never considered me worthy of knowing how our shared financial resources were being spent.

Around noon, my phone sounded twice as two text messages arrived from Gavin.

Neither message sounded hostile or desperate; both were unusually straightforward.

“Could we meet somewhere public and have a conversation?” his first message asked.

Seconds later, another appeared: “I need to tell you the truth about those company bank transfers.”

I passed my phone across to Chloe, allowing her to examine both messages.

“He realizes you’ve discovered the unexplained transactions,” Chloe observed.

“I imagine he does,” I agreed.

“Are you comfortable meeting him?” she asked quietly.

I considered her question carefully.

Part of me wanted to avoid another conversation with Gavin for the rest of my life.

But another part recognized that continually avoiding difficult discussions would mean surrendering control of my decisions again, much as remaining silent had done throughout our marriage.

“Yes, I’m willing to speak with him,” I decided. “But someone else will absolutely be present.”

We scheduled the conversation for later that afternoon in a private meeting room at Samantha’s legal office.

Gavin appeared at exactly four that afternoon.

He seemed utterly worn out.

His usual perfectly fitted suit was absent, along with his luxury wristwatch and the self-assured manner he normally displayed.

Instead, he had chosen ordinary jeans and a charcoal-gray sweater.

Brenda had not accompanied him.

When he noticed Chloe already seated inside, he stopped briefly near the doorway. “Hi, Chloe.”

Chloe acknowledged him with one restrained nod.

Samantha began by clearly outlining the conditions governing our discussion.

She emphasized that participation was voluntary, either person could end the conversation whenever necessary, financial questions would be addressed through documented facts, and personal marital disagreements could be reserved for mediation or separate legal discussions.

Gavin settled into the chair opposite mine.

For several moments, we simply looked at each other without speaking.

Eventually, he met my eyes. “I’m genuinely sorry for the way I treated you that morning and for hurting your wrist.”