The first person I called was not Joshua.
Not Cheyenne.
Not even my closest friend.
I called Naomi Feldman.
I had met Naomi three years earlier when one of my patients needed legal help after a medical dispute. She was sharp, direct, and impossible to intimidate.
Exactly the kind of person I needed.
The phone rang twice.
“Gretchen?”
Her voice was calm.
But something in my silence must have told her this was not a normal call.
“What happened?”
I stared at the documents spread across Joshua’s desk.
The investment accounts.
The hidden transfers.
The company owned by the woman he claimed was “just a coworker.”
“I’m supposed to sign my divorce settlement this morning.”
A pause.
“And?”
“I think my husband has been hiding assets.”
Naomi didn’t react dramatically.
That was one of the reasons I trusted her.
She didn’t waste energy being shocked.
She looked for facts.
“What makes you think that?”
I took a picture of the documents.
Then another.
Then I emailed everything.
“Because these accounts were listed on our old tax records.”
My voice became quieter.
“But they aren’t in the divorce agreement.”
There was silence.
Not confusion.
Calculation.
“How much?”
“Over one million dollars.”
Another pause.
Then Naomi asked the question that made my stomach tighten.
“Gretchen, has he already convinced you to sign?”
“No.”
“Good.”
The way she said that scared me.
“What?”
“Do not sign anything.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Do not confront him.”
I looked at the empty hallway outside the office.
“Why?”
