Chapter 5 - The Other Woman’s Version
Brooke arrived at Celia’s office on Thursday carrying a structured black handbag and none of the confidence she had worn at my wedding.
She brought her own attorney.
That was the first sensible thing I had seen her do.
We sat across a conference table while Celia explained that nobody was there to negotiate forgiveness.
We were there to establish facts.
Brooke looked at me.
“I didn’t know the earrings belonged to your grandmother.”
“You knew they belonged to me.”
She lowered her eyes.
“Yes.”
The answer came without decoration.
I appreciated that more than I wanted to.
Her attorney placed copies of messages on the table.
Julian and Brooke had resumed contact eight months earlier.
At first, they had discussed an agency acquisition. Brooke had worked in business development and knew the owner.
Then the messages changed.
Julian told her our relationship was an arrangement.
He claimed I cared about appearances, that we had agreed to live largely separate lives, and that the wedding was necessary for complicated financial reasons.
I almost laughed.
“He cried during his vows.”
Brooke’s face tightened.
“He told me he was trapped.”
“People who are trapped usually don’t send their partners honeymoon menus.”
She nodded, accepting the blow.
“I should have questioned him.”
“Yes.”
She continued.
He had promised Brooke a senior role in the acquired agency. He had also told her I would finance the deal after the wedding.
The earrings, according to him, were proof that I understood their closeness and had accepted it.
I stared at her.
“You believed that?”
“I wanted to.”
There it was.
The least flattering answer.
The most believable one.
“Did you have an affair with him?”
She looked toward her lawyer, then back at me.
“Yes.”
My chest hurt even though I had expected it.
“When?”
“Since July.”
I folded my hands beneath the table.
Celia gave me time.
Nobody tried to make the silence comfortable.
Finally, I asked about Briar Advisory.
Brooke sat straighter.
“That’s my company.”
“Did you perform work for Lumen & Pine?”
“Yes. Research and introductions for the packaging transition.”
“All the work listed on those invoices?”
Her attorney opened another folder.
“No,” Brooke said.
The room became very quiet.
She explained that she had billed Julian’s firm sixty-four thousand dollars over several months. She had records supporting those services.
His firm had passed charges to Lumen & Pine at a much higher amount, using broader descriptions.
Some markup could have been legitimate under a proper agreement.
The missing work and misleading descriptions were another matter.
“I didn’t know he had billed you that much,” she said.
Celia accepted the records without commenting.
Brooke took a breath.
“He also told me you had approved a personal advance to his company.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
She slid over a message.
Julian had written it two nights before the wedding.
Once she signs, we can breathe. Until then, keep her comfortable.
For a moment, I could hear the reception band again.
The applause.
The clink of forks against glasses.
All those people celebrating a promise while he waited for my signature.
Brooke wiped her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at her carefully.
“You watched him hurt me in front of two hundred people. You knew enough to recognize that.”
“Yes.”
“So whatever he lied about, that part was yours.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
We did not hug.
We did not become friends.
She agreed to preserve her records and communicate through counsel.
As we stood, she said, “He’s going to say you destroyed him.”
“He can say it.”
Outside the conference room, Celia touched my elbow.
“Are you all right to drive?”
“Not yet.”
We sat in her office until the shaking stopped.
Then she handed me water.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“We verify what she gave us.”
“And after that?”
“We let evidence do work that anger can’t.”
May you like
That night, I put my grandmother’s letter beside my bed.
For the first time, I read it without feeling I had failed her.
