Chapter 4 - The Other Woman’s Receipt
Delaney called on Wednesday.
Mallory watched the unfamiliar number ring twice before answering.
“I have something you need to see,” Delaney said.
“Send it to my attorney.”
“I will. But I need to tell you what it is first.”
Mallory sat on June’s back steps.
A neighbor was mowing his lawn. The ordinary sound felt almost offensive.
Delaney took a breath.
“Preston asked me to sign a statement.”
“What kind of statement?”
“Saying you knew about our relationship. Saying your marriage had already ended.”
Mallory shut her eyes.
“And?”
“I refused.”
“Why?”
“Because it isn’t true.”
For several seconds, neither woman spoke.
Then Delaney said, “He also told me you were stealing from the foundation.”
Mallory’s hand went cold around the phone.
“When?”
“Monday. He said he’d been trying to settle things quietly because he didn’t want you prosecuted.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I wanted to.”
The answer was ugly enough to be honest.
“What changed?”
“I asked him for proof. He got angry. Then Helena came to my apartment.”
Delaney described the visit carefully.
Helena had brought flowers, a prenatal vitamin basket, and a revised statement.
She had also suggested Delaney’s future would become “very difficult” if she chose to embarrass the family.
“Were those her words?”
“Yes.”
“Tell Ruth everything.”
“I have emails,” Delaney said. “And the draft statement. Preston sent both.”
Ruth arranged a meeting that afternoon.
Delaney arrived wearing jeans and a loose gray sweater. Without the pale blue dress, without Helena hovering nearby, she looked younger.
Not innocent.
Just young.
She placed her phone on the conference table.
There were messages dating back seven months.
Preston describing a marriage that existed only for appearances.
Preston promising to move out.
Preston telling her Mallory had accepted a generous settlement.
Ruth preserved the messages through the proper process.
Then Delaney opened an attachment.
A payment confirmation.
Northstar Project Services had paid a deposit on the apartment Preston rented for her.
Mallory stared at the vendor’s name.
“How much?”
“Eighteen thousand. Three months in advance.”
“Did you know where the money came from?”
“He said Northstar was one of his investment companies.”
Ruth’s pen paused.
“Do you have that in writing?”
Delaney scrolled.
There it was.
Don’t worry about the invoice name. Northstar is mine.
The room became very still.
Until then, Northstar had been a suspicious vendor connected to Preston by authorization.
Now he had claimed ownership himself.
Delaney looked from Ruth to Mallory.
“How bad is it?”
Ruth answered carefully.
“It may be very significant.”
Delaney pressed her palms together.
“I teach second grade,” she said suddenly. “I know how stupid that sounds. I teach children to tell the truth, and I believed a man who never let me call after nine.”
Mallory looked at her.
“No one looks stupid because someone lied convincingly.”
Delaney’s eyes filled.
“But you knew he had a wife,” Mallory added.
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to erase that part.”
“I know.”
Ruth let the silence remain.
Some things needed room.
After the meeting, Delaney followed Mallory to the elevator.
“I’m moving back near my sister.”
“Good.”
“I’m keeping the baby.”
Mallory’s chest tightened.
For a moment, she was back in the hospital, counting ceiling tiles while Preston stood in the hallway taking a call.
She steadied herself against the elevator railing.
“That’s your decision.”
“I’m not asking you to be happy about it.”
“Thank you.”
Delaney wiped her face.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
The elevator doors opened.
Mallory stepped inside.
“Then we understand each other.”
That evening, Helena released a statement through the foundation.
It described “recently discovered irregularities involving an outside consultant” and promised swift action to protect donors.
No name appeared.
It did not need to.
Within an hour, a local news website had identified Keane Studio.
By dinner, Mallory’s old college roommate had texted.
Is this about you?
Then came a message from a prospective client canceling their appointment.
June took the phone from Mallory’s hand.
“Don’t read any more tonight.”
But Mallory had already seen Preston’s statement beneath the article.
We ask for compassion as our family navigates a painful private transition.
Below it was a photograph from their wedding.
His ring was visible.
So was hers.
Mallory stood and reached for her laptop.
June watched her.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a list.”
“Of what?”
“Every person who can prove I was locked out of that building.”
May you like
For the first time, anger gave her something useful.
By midnight, the list filled two pages.
