His voice softened.
“You don’t have to solve everything today. Stay with Claire. We’ll find out what’s going on.”
I asked him not to tell Adrian where I was.
He promised.
Rebecca arranged to meet me that afternoon.
She was in her late thirties, with short brown hair and the calm, precise manner of someone accustomed to handling difficult conversations.
She brought a colleague named Daniel Mercer, who specialized in corporate financial disputes.
We met in a private conference room.
I gave them copies of the documents I had signed before the wedding, or at least the copies I had been able to locate in my email.
Rebecca examined them.
Then she looked at Daniel.
He read the first page.
His expression changed.
“Emma, did you understand what you were signing?”
I shook my head.
“Adrian said they were documents for our house.”
Daniel placed the papers on the table.
