I did.
This time, I included the financial history.
My company was called Bennett Interiors.
I founded it before marrying Adrian.
It had grown from a small studio into a successful commercial design firm.
Adrian joined as an operations consultant two years into our marriage.
I never transferred ownership to him.
But I gave him access to some accounts.
That decision now terrified me.
Daniel asked about wills.
Trusts.
Property.
Inheritance.
“I don’t have an inheritance.”
He looked up.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“My parents are alive.”
“What about grandparents?”
“My grandmother died when I was twenty-two.”
“Did she have assets?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel wrote something down.
Then he asked about my maiden name.
Bennett.
He asked my grandmother’s full name.
Lillian Rose Bennett.
His pen stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing yet.”
He looked at me.
“But I want permission to search some probate records.”
“Why?”
“Because your husband’s behavior suggests they need something from you.”
I swallowed.
“What?”
“That is what we’re going to find out.”
Adrian arrived while Daniel was still there.
He entered carrying flowers.
His face froze when he saw the attorney.
“Daniel.”
“Adrian.”
“What are you doing here?”
Daniel remained seated.
“Speaking with my client.”
Adrian looked at me.
“Client?”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
“Camille, can we talk alone?”
“No.”
“I’m your husband.”
“I know.”
He glanced at Daniel.
“This is ridiculous.”
Daniel closed his notebook.
“Then it should be easy to resolve.”
Adrian ignored him.
He moved toward the bed.
“I was terrified when you collapsed.”
I stared at him.
“You locked the bedroom door.”
His expression changed.
“For your own good.”
“How?”
“You were delirious.”
“I asked to go to the hospital.”
“You were panicking.”
“You asked the nurse whether I could become mentally incapacitated.”
His face drained.
“That isn’t what happened.”
Maria had documented it.
Daniel knew that.
I knew that.
Adrian didn’t know we knew.
“Then explain.”
“I was asking about side effects.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about you.”
I almost laughed.
Daniel watched silently.
I asked the question that mattered.
“Where is my phone?”
Adrian hesitated.
“At home.”
“Why?”
“You didn’t need it.”
Daniel stood.
“She needs access to her property.”
Adrian’s voice hardened.
“Stay out of my marriage.”
Daniel’s expression didn’t change.
“You called it a marriage.
My client called me because she believes she is being controlled and financially endangered.
I am exactly where she asked me to be.”
Adrian looked at me.
“You’re making a huge mistake.”
Maybe.
But for the first time in years, it felt like my mistake to make.
“Leave.”
He stared at me.
“Camille.”
“Leave.”
He did.
The next morning, Daniel called.
He had found something.
Not everything.
But enough.
“Your grandmother’s estate was larger than you were told.”
“How large?”
“Approximately six point eight million dollars at the time of her death.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
“That can’t be right.”
“It is.”
“Where did it go?”
“That’s the interesting part.”
He explained that most of the estate had passed through a trust.
The trust documents weren’t all public.
But a probate filing referenced a beneficiary identified by my initials and birth date.
Me.
“I never received anything.”
“I know.”
Daniel continued.
