We requested the records through the proper channels.
Nate cooked steak the night he brought me the refinancing packet.
There were two wineglasses on the counter. He had bought asparagus, which he remembered I liked, and a lemon tart from a bakery we used to visit on Saturdays.
I stood in the doorway with my work bag still on my shoulder.
“What’s this?”
“A truce.”
He kissed my cheek before I could move away.
“You’ve been wound up lately. I know I haven’t helped.”
I watched him put the food on plates. A small, foolish part of me wanted to believe an apology was coming.
Instead, he reached for his briefcase.
“The broker found us a better arrangement on the house. I need you to look at this.”
He set the packet beside my plate. Yellow tabs marked three places for signatures.
“Tonight?”
“To hold the terms, yes.”
I turned the cover page.
There were property descriptions, a company name I recognized from Dalton’s research, and a document headed Quitclaim Deed.
“This transfers my interest,” I said.
“It’s part of the refinance.”
“To your company.”
“To the holding company. It’s cleaner that way.”
“Does it remove me from the mortgage?”
“The broker handles that.”
I kept reading.
He sat down opposite me.
“Hannah, I know this stuff. You don’t have to turn it into a work project.”
There was a release in the packet too. It referred to prior agreements and waived claims relating to the property.
That was what he wanted. Not merely a new piece of paper for the house. A fresh signature he could point to if I later questioned the old one.
I put the packet back together.
“I’m taking this for independent review.”
His fork stopped halfway to his plate.
“We’ll lose the rate.”
“Then we’ll lose the rate.”
For a moment, I thought he might grab the papers. Instead, he set his fork down.
“You really don’t trust me anymore.”
I looked at the lemon tart between us.
“Not with something I haven’t read.”
That night, I slept at Zoe’s.
I told Nate I needed space. I did not promise to be back in the morning.
Zoe reviewed the business names while Elena reviewed the legal effect of the proposed transfer.
They agreed on the most important point: I would not sign away my interest in the house.
A deed would not remove me from a mortgage obligation simply because Nate said his broker would arrange it. A document sent for recording would not become fair because a clerk accepted it.
There was also no clever sentence Zoe could insert that would give me ownership of Nate’s offshore money.
What she could do was help identify the company in his packet. Its filings led back to the condominium buyer and to a foreign holding company named in the acquisition material Dalton had located.
That information went to Elena.
Then Elena prepared a written response.
The first page acknowledged receipt of Nate’s proposal. It stated plainly that no deed, release, or transfer was authorized. Any resolution would require full financial disclosure, independent counsel, and a written agreement handled through a legitimate closing process.
I signed that acknowledgment. I did not sign the deed.
The unsigned deed and release remained attached, each marked as unapproved.
“You can give him this,” Elena said. “Don’t misrepresent what you signed. If he wants to negotiate, his attorney can call me.”
When I returned the packet, Nate was leaving for work.
“I signed the acknowledgment,” I said. “The rest is subject to independent review. Read the first page.”
He flipped to my signature, barely glanced at the text, and gathered everything into his briefcase.
“So we’re good?”
“Read it, Nate.”
He looked at his watch.
“I will.”
Later, through the records exchanged in our case, I learned he had sent the packet to a title company with a request to move forward. Their response said they had no executed deed from me and could not process the transfer he requested.
He knew that before the anniversary party.
He would tell his mother a different story.
At the end of April, Nate insisted we attend a dinner downtown with Barbara.
“You’ve missed two family things already.”
“I’ve had other things to deal with.”
“Then this is a chance to start acting normal.”
I should have declined. Elena had told me I could stop participating in the performance whenever I wanted.
But I was tired of being discussed in rooms where I wasn’t present. And I still wanted to see whether Nate could sit across from me and tell me one honest thing.
I wore an ivory dress that had been in my closet for three years. Nate said it looked nice. In the car, he asked whether I had thought about what he needed for the party’s remaining balance.
“I’m not paying it.”
He stared through the windshield.
“I’ve already taken care of it.”
Later, I learned he had charged much of it and borrowed the rest from Barbara. His resources were larger than he admitted, but the money he wanted to keep hidden was inconvenient to explain. It was easier to pressure me than account for his own spending.
At dinner, Barbara asked whether I was still staying with Gavin and Zoe.
“Some nights.”
“A marriage needs privacy.”
“So do bank accounts, apparently.”
Nate put down his menu.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I asked to see ours.”
Barbara reached for her water.
“Can’t we have one nice evening?”
We had ordered when Amber approached the table.
She wore a dark blazer over a pale dress. Nate stood too quickly.
“Amber. I didn’t know you were here.”
Barbara smiled before the introduction.
I noticed that.
Nate described Amber as someone from marketing. She touched his shoulder while explaining that she had been meeting friends nearby.
I looked at the necklace she was wearing.
Seven months earlier, there had been a nine-thousand-dollar charge from a jewelry boutique on our joint card. Nate said it was a client gift his company would reimburse.
I had asked about the reimbursement twice. After the second time, he said accounting was backed up and he couldn’t keep bothering them.
I had paid the balance to avoid carrying the interest.
Amber caught me looking.
“Do you like it?” she asked.