Chapter 4 - THE NAME SHE NEVER OWNED
“Somebody invented a marriage so they could steal my mother's property.”
Megan held the document with both hands.
Adrian read the notarized statement again.
“This isn't a marriage certificate,” he said. “It's a claim that you used Delaney as your legal surname.”
“I never did.”
“Then somebody provided false identification or lied to the notary.”
June pulled out a chair.
“Sit down, honey. You're shaking.”
Megan sat.
For four years, Rick had called her dramatic whenever she questioned his decisions.
Now his surname appeared on paperwork surrendering something she hadn't even known she possessed.
She felt foolish.
Then angry.
Mostly angry.
“I gave him copies of my driver's license,” she said. “He told me we needed them for a rental application.”
“When?” Adrian asked.
“Last spring.”
“Did you sign anything?”
“A few forms. He said we were applying for a better apartment.”
“Did he give you copies?”
“No.”
She closed her eyes.
Rick had insisted he handle the paperwork because money and legal matters were too complicated for her.
She'd believed him.
June reached across the table.
“Your mother had a saying about that.”
Megan looked up.
“She used to tell my husband, 'A woman doesn't need a man's permission to understand her own business.'”
A small smile escaped Megan despite everything.
“That sounds like Mom.”
Adrian photographed the notice.
“We need the original filing record and the identity of whoever submitted it.”
“Can you get those?”
“Yes. But I'm not taking you to somebody who works for me. We'll use the public records and report the suspected forgery.”
Megan studied him.
“Why are you helping?”
“Because I helped create the conditions that allowed this.”
“That doesn't answer what you want.”
He took a moment.
“I want to stop doing damage just because fixing it will cost me something.”
She didn't know whether to believe him.
But it was the first answer he'd given that sounded like a man examining himself rather than defending his reputation.
The next morning, Megan went to Providence.
Adrian offered security.
She accepted a driver but insisted on making her own decisions.
Her first stop was the flower shop where she worked.
Hawthorne Florals occupied a narrow brick storefront between a bakery and an old pharmacy.
Its owner, fifty-nine-year-old Patricia Hawthorne, was trimming roses when Megan entered.
“Oh, thank heavens.”
Patricia set down her shears.
“Rick came by yesterday looking for you.”
Megan stopped.
“What did he say?”
“That you were having some kind of breakdown. He wanted your schedule.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“Absolutely not.”
Patricia came around the counter.
“I never liked the way that man talked to you, Megan. But I figured it wasn't my place.”
Megan looked at the flowers.
For years, she'd worked among beautiful things while going home to someone who made her feel small.
“I left him three weeks ago.”
“Good.”
“He's still trying to control me.”
“Then we change the locks on the back room, make sure he isn't listed as an emergency contact, and keep him out of this shop.”
The simple certainty in Patricia's voice nearly brought Megan to tears.
“Thank you.”
Patricia took her hand.
“You've spent four years apologizing for that man. You don't have to apologize for protecting yourself.”
Megan helped prepare three funeral arrangements before meeting Adrian at a public diner downtown.
She wanted familiar surroundings.
Other people nearby.
A place Rick couldn't control.
Rick arrived eleven minutes late.
His hair was carefully combed.
He wore the expensive watch Megan had bought him after working two consecutive Christmas weekends.
When he saw Adrian, his smile disappeared.
“I thought we were talking privately.”
“We're in public,” Megan said. “That's as private as I'm willing to get.”
Rick sat.
“Megan, baby—”
“Don't call me that.”
He glanced around.
“You're making a scene.”
“No. I'm asking questions.”
She placed the release certificate on the table.
“Why did you sign my name?”
Rick went pale.
“I didn't.”
“Then why does it say Delaney?”
“Maybe you filled it out yourself.”
“I've never used your last name.”
Rick rubbed his forehead.
“Eleanor told me the paperwork was a formality.”
Megan went still.
“So you did know.”
“I knew she wanted to talk to you about some property.”
“You knew she paid you forty thousand dollars.”
“She said the money would cover what I owed.”
“You didn't owe Adrian anything.”
Rick looked toward him.
Adrian's expression remained cold.
“Your original account was paid in full,” he said. “Megan paid it. You knew that.”
Rick lowered his eyes.
Megan leaned forward.
“Were you ever planning to tell me?”
He said nothing.
“How much of my money did you spend after the account was cleared?”
Rick stared at the table.
“I had other expenses.”
“You let me sell my mother's bracelet.”
“I never asked you to sell it.”
“No. You just told me we'd lose everything if I didn't find more money.”
Rick looked up angrily.
“You think life was easy for me? My father was sick. I lost my job. Everybody expected me to provide.”
Megan remembered helping care for his father.
She remembered driving him to appointments.
Buying groceries.
Cleaning his apartment.
“I helped your family,” she said. “I would have kept helping if you'd been honest.”
Rick swallowed.
“Eleanor promised I could start over.”
“At my expense?”
He couldn't answer.
Adrian placed a printed transaction summary on the table.
“The forty-thousand-dollar payment was deposited into your business account two days ago. Who prepared the false release?”
Rick rubbed both hands over his face.
“A woman from Eleanor's office brought the forms. She used copies of Megan's identification and some papers I'd saved.”
“Did you sign her name?”
Rick hesitated.
Megan waited.
Finally, he whispered, “Yes.”
The admission felt less satisfying than she'd imagined.
Rick looked frightened.
Not sorry.
Just frightened of what might happen to him.
“You need to preserve everything you received,” Adrian said. “And provide it to the investigators.”
Rick stood abruptly.
“I'm not taking the fall alone.”
“Then tell them the truth,” Megan replied.
He looked at her.
For a moment, she saw the man she'd once loved.
The one who had brought flowers to her mother's grave and held her hand during difficult winters.
Then his face hardened.
“You wouldn't understand what it feels like to have nothing.”
Megan stood.
“I understand perfectly.”
She took her purse.
“I just never thought you'd try to sell me to get something back.”
Rick didn't follow her.
Outside, the morning sun shone across the diner windows.
Megan leaned against the car.
Adrian stayed several feet away.
“You handled that well.”
“I feel sick.”
“That's understandable.”
“I thought confronting him would make me feel powerful.”
“Maybe power isn't the same as feeling good.”
She looked at him.
“Maybe.”
His phone displayed a message from the independent accountant he'd asked to examine the Raven Court records.
He read it.
Then frowned.
“What?”
Adrian looked at Megan.
“The accountant traced Eleanor's forty-thousand-dollar payment.”
“To Rick?”
“Yes. But the important question is where the money came from before that.”
He showed her the transaction history.
The account was labeled:
RAVEN COURT STEWARDSHIP RESERVE.
Designated successor: Megan Rose Walsh.
Megan read the line twice.
“That's my mother's fund?”
“It's the reserve your mother helped establish, now held for the community under your stewardship.”
“And Eleanor took forty thousand dollars from it?”
Adrian nodded.
Megan looked through the diner window.
Rick sat inside, holding the watch she'd bought him.
She thought about every missed meal.
Every overtime shift.
Every piece of her mother's jewelry she'd sold.
Then she understood the cruelty of what had happened.
“They didn't just pay Rick to sell me,” she whispered.
May you like
She looked at Adrian.
“They used my mother's money to buy me.”
