Chapter 7: What Garrett Holloway Wanted
Daniel Reeves had been a family lawyer for thirty-one years.
He had seen most things.
He delivered the name Garrett Holloway across his desk the following morning with the careful tone of someone who has learned not to editorialize.
"He's a property broker," Daniel said.
"Specialist in residential asset transfers.
Mostly works with couples going through separation — helps one party liquidate shared assets quickly, before the legal process slows things down." He paused.
"He has a reputation for working fast and asking few questions."
Marcus sat across from him, hands folded on the desk.
"How do you know him?"
"He's appeared on the other side of two cases I've handled.
Both times, a spouse had already been in contact with him before the separation was even filed.
Both times, the shared property moved faster than it should have." Daniel set a printed page on the desk between them.
"I pulled his business registration this morning.
One of his listed associates is a woman named Sondra Vance."
Marcus looked at the page.
Sondra's full name, her signature, a date.
"That's her maiden name," he said.
"The registration is fourteen months old."
Marcus looked up from the page.
"We'd been married for six months."
Daniel nodded.
He didn't say anything more.
He didn't need to.
"She registered as his associate six months into our marriage," Marcus said slowly.
"While she was still learning where we kept the spare keys."
"The mortgage refinancing she proposed would have added her as an equal co-owner of the property," Daniel said.
"Once that was in place, in the event of a separation, she would have been entitled to fifty percent of the home's value.
At current market rates—" He turned another page.
"—that's approximately four hundred and sixty thousand dollars."
Marcus was quiet for a moment.
"And Garrett Holloway takes a percentage of the transfer."
"Standard rate in his contracts is twelve percent of the acquired asset value." Daniel let that number settle.
"He had a strong incentive to see this move quickly."
"She called my daughter easy to manage," Marcus said.
"In a conversation with him.
Four months ago."
Daniel's expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes did.
He picked up his pen.
"I want you to send me all seven recordings today.
Before noon if possible."
"You'll have them by ten."
"Good." Daniel made a note.
"Now.
The mortgage application — you said you haven't signed."
"Correct."
"Then the property is still entirely in your name.
She has no legal claim to it in a separation proceeding, beyond what a court might award based on the length of the marriage and her financial contribution." He looked up.
"Which, based on what you've described, is minimal."
"She hasn't worked since we married."
"That complicates things slightly, but not significantly given the timeline and the evidence of premeditation." Daniel set his pen down.
"Marcus, what I'm about to say is legal advice and also just practical: do not let her know what you know.
Not yet."
"I've already started."
"Good.
Let her believe the conversation last night was about Maya.
Let her believe the marriage is recoverable.
The moment she thinks you've found the recordings and connected Holloway, she will move.
Quickly."
Marcus thought about the floorboard creaking.
The bedroom door opening just slightly.
"She's already moving," he said.
"Then we need to move faster." Daniel stood, extending his hand.
"Send me those recordings.
I'll have a full strategy document to you by end of day." He paused.
"And Marcus — keep your daughter out of the house."
"She's already at my mother's."
"Good." Daniel's hand was firm.
"Let's finish this cleanly."
Marcus drove home through morning traffic with both hands on the wheel and the radio off.
When he pulled into the driveway, Sondra's car was still there.
He sat for a moment before going in.
Inside, she was in the kitchen.
Coffee made.
Two cups on the counter.
She was dressed carefully, her expression composed and open — the version of her face she deployed when she wanted to appear reasonable.
"I thought we could talk," she said.
"Calmly.
Without an audience."
Marcus looked at the two cups.
He sat down at the table.
"All right," he said.
"Talk."
She sat across from him.
Wrapped her hands around her cup.
"Last night got out of hand.
I said things I shouldn't have.
I know that." She met his eyes.
"But I also think there are things we haven't been honest with each other about.
About what this marriage actually looks like.
About what we both need."
"What do you need?" Marcus asked.
She held his gaze.
"Security," she said.
"I gave up a lot to be here.
I need to know that if things go wrong between us, I'm not left with nothing."
Marcus looked at her for a long moment.
"That sounds reasonable," he said.
Her shoulders dropped very slightly.
"I'm glad you think so."
"Tell me what you have in mind."
She reached into the pocket of her cardigan and set a folded document on the table between them.
The mortgage refinancing application.
Already completed.
Two signature lines at the bottom.
His name printed neatly beneath the second one.
She slid a pen across the table.
Marcus looked at the document.
Then at the pen.
Then at her face.
"I'll need to read it first," he said.
"Of course." She smiled.
"Take your time."
His phone buzzed on the table.
A message from Daniel's office.
He turned it face-down without reading it.
"Give me until this afternoon," he said.
"Of course," she said again.
She picked up her coffee cup.
May you like
Her hands were perfectly steady.
His were too.
