Chapter 4 - The First Alert
I held up my phone.
“Did you just try to access my bank account?”
Julian stared at the screen.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
“Interesting.”
I tapped the security notification.
“The login attempt came from this address.”
“We live here.”
“You live here.”
“Elena, stop.”
Another notification appeared.
Incorrect password entered.
Then another.
Account temporarily locked due to repeated attempts.
Caleb swore quietly.
Victoria stepped in front of Julian.
“This is insane.”
I looked directly at my husband.
“Give me your phone.”
He laughed.
“What?”
“If you didn’t try to log in, give me your phone.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
I nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
I climbed into my car.
Julian grabbed the top of the door before I could close it.
“Elena, listen to me.”
I looked at his hand.
“Remove it.”
“We can fix this.”
“What exactly are we fixing?”
His voice softened.
It was almost impressive.
The cold dictator from the kitchen disappeared.
In his place stood the man I had dated for eighteen months.
The man who brought soup when I was sick.
The man who remembered my mother’s birthday.
The man who cried during his proposal.
“Elena, baby.”
I nearly flinched at the word.
“You’re overwhelmed.”
“No.”
“Yesterday was stressful.”
“No.”
“My mother came on too strong.”
Behind him, Victoria’s mouth fell open.
I almost admired how quickly he was willing to sacrifice her.
“We all said things badly.”
“You threw a filthy towel into my face.”
“I tossed it.”
“You threatened to withhold lunch if I didn’t clean your kitchen.”
“It was a joke.”
“You told me I wasn’t your wife.”
He leaned closer.
“You know I didn’t mean it.”
I studied his face.
For months, I had interpreted his intensity as devotion.
Now I saw something else.
Calculation.
I reached for the door.
“Move.”
“Elena.”
“Move, or I call the police.”
That did it.
He stepped back.
I shut the door.
Victoria hurried toward my window.
“You leave now and don’t expect to come crawling back.”
I started the engine.
“Don’t worry.”
I lowered the window two inches.
“I won’t.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You think your parents are going to support you forever?”
I smiled.
“I’ve supported myself since I was twenty-two.”
Then I drove away.
I didn’t cry until the house disappeared behind me.
Even then, I allowed myself exactly three minutes.
Three minutes to mourn the wedding.
Three minutes to mourn the man I thought I had married.
Three minutes to mourn the future I had pictured.
Then I pulled into a gas station and changed every password I owned.
Banking.
Email.
Cloud storage.
Credit cards.
Investment accounts.
My work login.
I froze my credit with all three bureaus.
Then I called the one person Julian had repeatedly told me I worried too much by keeping on speed dial.
My attorney.
“Rebecca?”
“Elena?”
She sounded surprised.
“Aren’t you supposed to be leaving for your honeymoon today?”
I looked at the wedding ring on my finger.
“We have a problem.”
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in my car outside a coffee shop explaining everything.
Rebecca didn’t interrupt once.
When I finished, there was silence.
Then she asked one question.
“Do you still have the marriage certificate?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
Another pause.
“Because yesterday afternoon, somebody sent my office an email requesting information about transferring your premarital assets into a marital trust.”
My blood turned cold.
“What?”
“And Elena?”
May you like
“Yes?”
“The email was signed with your name.”
