Chapter 11 - THE MONEY TRAIL
Rachel told me to stop contacting Andrew about finances directly.
“Preserve the evidence.”
So I preserved everything.
The fake invoice.
The real contractor statement.
Transfers from my inheritance account.
Messages from Andrew asking for reimbursement.
Then another pattern emerged.
$4,200 for roofing work that had never occurred.
$6,800 for dock repairs that cost less than $900.
$3,100 for an emergency septic service the company could not locate in its records.
The total exceeded $41,000.
I sat at my kitchen table staring at the number.
Forty-one thousand dollars.
It was not enough to ruin me financially.
That almost made it worse.
Andrew had known exactly how much he could take without forcing me to inspect every transaction.
Small enough to disappear inside a comfortable life.
Large enough to fund another one.
At noon, Michael called.
“I found bank statements.”
“Whose?”
“Brooke’s.”
I remained quiet.
“She has been transferring money into a separate account for months.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-six thousand.”
My chest tightened.
“Do you know where it came from?”
“Some came from us.”
He paused.
“Some came from Andrew.”
That afternoon, Brooke sent screenshots proving Andrew had transferred her money labeled consulting reimbursements.
The dates aligned with the inflated cottage invoices.
My money had gone to Andrew.
Andrew had sent part of it to Brooke.
The affair had been subsidized by the person they were betraying.
When Andrew came home that evening, his anger had disappeared.
He looked tired.
“Claire, we need to talk.”
“No.”
“Please.”
It was the first time he had used that word all weekend.
“I know you found the invoices.”
I looked at him.
“How?”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“Because Gregory called.”
“Your lawyer seems very busy.”
“He told me this is getting out of control.”
“No.”
I stood.
“This is becoming visible.”
Andrew stepped closer.
“I can repay the money.”
“With what?”
He did not answer.
“You spent it.”
“I made bad decisions.”
“You made repeated decisions.”
His eyes filled with tears.
Seven years ago, those tears would have destroyed me.
That night, they barely moved me.
“Claire, I love you.”
My phone vibrated.
A message from Brooke appeared.
I opened it.
It was a screenshot from Andrew sent only twenty-three minutes earlier.
Don’t panic.
Once Claire calms down, I can still fix this.
I turned the phone toward him.
“Which Claire were you telling that you loved?”
May you like
His face went blank.
For the first time, Andrew understood that Brooke was no longer protecting him either.
