“I work too,” I said quietly.
Mark leaned back.
“Three mornings a week, Linda. Let’s not pretend it’s the same thing.”
Nobody said anything.
I picked up the plates.
And I walked into the kitchen.
For years, I had swallowed comments like that.
Not that night.
That night, something inside me had finally gone quiet.
I wasn’t angry.
I wasn’t crying.
I was simply finished.
Twenty minutes later, someone knocked on the front door.
It was nearly nine.
Mark frowned.
“Who would come here this late?”
I walked to the door.
When I opened it, I stopped breathing for a moment.
David Harrison stood on our porch.
He was wearing a dark coat.
His expression was serious.
I had never seen him look that way before.
“Linda.”
“Mr. Harrison?”
“I’m sorry to come this late.”
Then he looked past me.
“I need to speak with you.”
Mark appeared behind me.
The color drained from his face.
“Sir?”
Mr. Harrison looked at him.
“Mark.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question about several things.”
The room became silent.
Mark glanced at his coworkers.
Then back at his boss.
“Can we talk privately?”
“No.”
Mr. Harrison stepped inside.
“I think everyone should hear this.”
Mark swallowed.
Then Mr. Harrison looked at me.
“Linda, I need an answer tonight.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
He had called me earlier that morning.
I had agreed to help him.
I had also told him I was ready to stop protecting my husband from the consequences of his own decisions.
Mr. Harrison handed me a thick folder.
My name was written across the front.
Mark stared at it.
“What is that?”
I placed it on the dining table.
“Something we need to discuss.”
Mark reached for it.
I put my hand over the cover.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“What do you mean, no?”
“You wanted your friends to hear how unimportant my job is.”
I looked at the three men sitting around our table.
“They can stay for this too.”
Mark’s face changed.
His confidence disappeared.
Mr. Harrison pulled out a chair.
Then he looked directly at Mark.
“I’ll ask you one question.”
Mark said nothing.
“Where did the remaining $480,000 go?”
Nobody moved.
One of Mark’s coworkers slowly lowered his glass.
Mark stared at Mr. Harrison.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Mr. Harrison opened the folder.
“That’s unfortunate.”
He removed several pages.
“Because your signature is on the authorization documents.”
Mark shook his head.
“Those signatures were part of the project.”
“Some were.”
Mr. Harrison placed another page on the table.
“These weren’t.”
Mark’s face went pale.
I looked at the document.
It was one of the pages I had signed.
My name was at the bottom.
My stomach dropped.
“What is that?”
Mr. Harrison looked at me.
“This is one of the reasons I came tonight.”
Mark immediately stepped forward.
“Linda, don’t listen to him.”
I stared at my husband.
“Why?”
He didn’t answer.
“Why shouldn’t I listen?”
“Because you don’t understand what this is.”
I almost laughed.
That was always his answer.
You don’t understand.
Mr. Harrison looked at me.
“Linda, your husband used your signature on documents that transferred liability to you.”
My mouth went dry.
“What?”
Mark shook his head.
“That’s not true.”
Mr. Harrison continued.
“Several payments were routed through a company connected to a former business associate. That company later transferred funds into another account.”
Mark said nothing.
“And one of the documents made it appear that Linda Carter had authorized a portion of the transactions.”
I looked at Mark.
He couldn’t meet my eyes.
For twenty-seven years, I had defended this man.
For twenty-seven years, I had believed that whatever happened, we were a team.
But suddenly I understood.
He hadn’t simply hidden money.
He had put my name in front of it.