Chapter 10
I searched Ashley Bennett before Detective Alvarez finished the call.
There were hundreds.
The name meant nothing.
I checked Michael’s social media.
Nothing obvious.
I checked people he followed.
Still nothing.
Then Rachel whispered, “I know an Ashley.”
I looked up.
“Who?”
She stared at my phone.
“Michael dated an Ashley in college.”
My stomach turned.
“Last name?”
“Bennett.”
I sat very still.
Rachel immediately shook her head.
“No. That was years ago.”
“How many?”
“Twelve.”
“Are they still in contact?”
“I don’t know.”
I thought about every late meeting.
Every weekend Michael said he was helping Linda.
Every strange moment I had ignored because I trusted him.
My heart started racing.
Rachel saw it.
“Don’t assume affair.”
“I’m trying not to.”
But fear had already changed shape.
Financial betrayal was horrible.
Romantic betrayal felt like another knife waiting behind it.
Karen told me not to contact Ashley.
Alvarez said the same.
So I waited.
Waiting became its own kind of punishment.
The next morning, I received a call from an unknown number.
I almost let it go.
Then I answered.
“Sarah?”
A woman.
“Yes.”
“My name is Ashley Bennett.”
I closed my eyes.
She sounded nervous.
“I think we need to talk.”
“About Michael?”
“Yes.”
My grip tightened.
“Are you having an affair with my husband?”
“No.”
The answer came so quickly I believed it.
Or wanted to.
“I haven’t seen Michael romantically in more than ten years.”
“Then why was someone buying you a car using my identity?”
Silence.
Then she whispered, “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“He said the financing was in his name.”
I stood.
“Who said?”
“Michael.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Ashley continued quickly.
“This isn’t what you think.”
“I have no idea what to think.”
“My brother worked with Michael.”
“What kind of work?”
“Online trading.”
My breath stopped.
The old losses.
The private lenders.
Everything connected again.
Ashley said, “My brother died last year.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Before he died, Michael owed him money.”
“How much?”
“About forty-eight thousand.”
That number.
I had seen it in the demand letter.
Ashley continued.
“My brother didn’t have a wife or children. His estate came to me.”
“So Michael owed you?”
“Yes.”
“And he offered you a car?”
“He said he couldn’t pay everything at once. He said he could finance a car I needed for work and make the payments.”
I pressed a hand against my forehead.
“Did you know my name was on the application?”
“No.”
“Did you send him your address?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of car?”
“A Lexus.”
Of course.
Not a used sedan.
Not something practical.
A Lexus.
Michael was trying to pay an old debt by creating a new one in my name.
“Did he contact you after Christmas?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
My anger sharpened.
“What did he say?”
“He said there had been a paperwork problem and not to answer calls from the lender.”
I laughed bitterly.
Ashley went quiet.
“I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“I can send you our messages.”
“Send them to Detective Alvarez.”
“I already spoke to him.”
That surprised me.
“He gave me your number after I asked if I could contact you.”
At least Alvarez had thought ahead.
Ashley inhaled.
“There’s something else.”
I almost laughed.
Every conversation had something else.
“What?”
“My brother kept records.”
My heartbeat changed.
“Records of what?”
“Michael’s trading group.”
I sat down.
“What trading group?”
“He wasn’t losing money alone.”
Ashley explained.
Michael, her brother, and two other men had pooled money for high-risk trading.
When losses mounted, Michael borrowed privately to keep positions open.
Then he borrowed again to repay earlier lenders.
Linda became involved after the first major collapse.
She put her house up.
But according to Ashley’s brother, Michael continued trading.
After marrying me.
I felt sick.
“He told me it stopped.”
“I don’t think it did.”
“How much did he lose?”
Ashley’s voice softened.
“My brother estimated more than four hundred thousand over several years.”
I closed my eyes.
Four hundred thousand.
Michael had once argued with me for buying a two-hundred-dollar vacuum.
He said we needed to be responsible.
I almost laughed.
Ashley said, “My brother believed Michael was using family money to hide losses.”
“Did he mention me?”
“Yes.”
I braced myself.
“He said Michael had married someone with good credit.”
I couldn’t speak.
There it was again.
Not Sarah.
Not his wife.
Someone with good credit.
Ashley continued.
“My brother thought Michael felt guilty.”
I laughed.
“He had interesting ways of showing it.”
“He also thought Linda was pushing him.”
“I don’t care anymore.”
And I meant it.
Linda could push.
Beg.
Manipulate.
Threaten.
Michael still signed things.
Michael still logged into accounts.
Michael still watched me get hit.
Ashley sent the records to Alvarez.
Three days later, the detective called me into the station.
He laid out a timeline.
The financial scheme was larger than I realized.
Michael’s trading losses began before we met.
Linda refinanced her house.
Then came private lenders.
Then credit accounts.
Then me.
My salary stabilized their applications.
My clean credit opened doors.
My savings became emergency payments.
My monthly support kept Linda’s household afloat while she serviced debts.
It had not been random.
It had been a financial survival plan.
Built around me.
Alvarez tapped one document.
“This account bothers me.”
I looked down.
A loan opened six months after my wedding.
$35,000.
The signature looked like mine.
“What about it?”
“It was paid off nine months later.”
“With what?”
“That’s the question.”
He showed me bank records.
The payoff came from an account belonging to a company called Mercer Consulting LLC.
I had never heard of it.
“Who owns that?”
“We’re investigating.”
“What does it have to do with Michael?”
“Payments from that company also went to two of his private lenders.”
My pulse increased.
“Was he working for them?”
“Not officially.”
“What kind of company is it?”
Alvarez looked at me.
“On paper, business consulting.”
“And in reality?”
“We’re not sure yet.”
I stared at the records.
Then I noticed an address.
The registered mailing address for Mercer Consulting.
I knew it.
I had sent Christmas cards there.
It belonged to Michael’s uncle, Robert.
Linda’s older brother.
I looked up.
“This is Uncle Robert.”
Alvarez nodded.
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
Robert Mercer had attended our wedding.
He gave us a silver serving tray.
He hugged me and said I was the best thing that ever happened to Michael.
My throat tightened.
May you like
“How many people knew?”
“That,” Alvarez said quietly, “is exactly what we’re trying to find out.”
