Chapter 4 - Her Name on Someone Else’s Money
Naomi read the number again.
Then she checked whether she had misunderstood the reporting period.
She had not.
According to the documents, Miller Studio had received substantial payments from Caleb’s development company over the previous eighteen months.
Naomi had never sent the invoices.
She had never seen the account listed beneath her business name.
For several minutes, she sat so still that Ruth asked whether the baby was moving.
“Yes,” Naomi said. “The baby’s fine.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She forwarded the email to Evelyn.
The attorney called the next morning.
“Don’t sign anything. I’m going to recommend someone who can help us understand these records.”
“Is this as bad as it looks?”
“It’s something we need to examine carefully.”
Naomi appreciated the answer.
She had spent years with a man who treated confidence as proof.
Careful sounded trustworthy.
The financial specialist Evelyn recommended was a patient woman named Marisol Vega. She asked Naomi to collect old business registration papers, tax returns, and any correspondence about work she had done for Caleb’s company.
Naomi found plenty.
She had helped with layouts for three buildings and selected finishes for several model apartments. Caleb had always said they would work out compensation later.
Later had apparently happened without her.
The following afternoon, he called.
“Why is your attorney asking my accountant questions?”
“Why is my old business receiving money I’ve never seen?”
A pause.
“It’s an accounting structure.”
“What structure?”
“Naomi, you don’t understand development finance.”
“I understand that those documents have my name on them.”
“I handled everything for us.”
She looked down at her hands.
That sentence had once made her feel protected.
Now it sounded like a locked door.
“I’ll let my attorney handle the questions.”
His tone changed.
“Do you have any idea what outside scrutiny can do to a company in the middle of financing?”
“No. But I’m beginning to understand what secrecy can do to a marriage.”
He hung up.
An hour later, he emailed a proposed agreement.
It offered temporary support, asked her to acknowledge that all business interests belonged solely to him, and included language she did not understand about claims against affiliated entities.
At the bottom, he had written:
This keeps things simple. Please don’t let strangers turn us against each other.
Naomi forwarded it without replying.
Then she cried.
Not because she wanted to sign.
Because some stubborn, wounded part of her still wanted the man who had once brought her coffee in bed to explain that there had been a terrible mistake.
Ruth found her in the laundry room.
“I keep wanting him to be someone else,” Naomi admitted.
Her mother leaned against the dryer.
“I know.”
“What if I never stop?”
“You will. Probably in small, inconvenient pieces.”
Naomi laughed through her tears.
“That sounds awful.”
“Some of it will be.”
There was comfort in the honesty.
The next morning, Naomi returned to Denise’s office.
Owen was there, crouched beside the new reception counter with a toolbox.
Denise had hired him to install shelving and repair a damaged section of wall.
He stood when Naomi entered.
“I followed your drawing,” he said. “But this corner is less square than it claims to be.”
She examined the gap.
“Can you adjust the trim?”
“Already cut a second piece.”
“You could’ve called.”
“Figured you had enough people asking you to solve things.”
The remark was so casually considerate that Naomi had to look away.
They spent an hour discussing practical details. Owen listened when she explained why the counter needed a lower section and why the chairs should leave a wider path to the door.
He did not interrupt to improve her ideas.
When she thanked him, he looked puzzled.
“You designed it.”
On Friday, Denise opened the refreshed office.
The walls were soft blue. The old cluttered reception area felt spacious and calm.
A patient walked in, stopped, and smiled.
“Well,” she said. “Somebody finally let the daylight in.”
Naomi stood beside the doorway with one hand over her belly.
Her phone buzzed.
Another message from Caleb.
You’re damaging my reputation over paperwork.
May you like
For the first time, she did not open the message immediately.
She was watching someone admire her work.
