Chapter 5: What Lorraine Didn't Know
Owen's attorney arrived at noon.
His name was Patterson — mid-fifties, silver tie, the practiced stillness of a man who had talked people out of worse situations than this.
He shook Rebecca's hand.
He did not shake mine.
They spoke for forty minutes in the sitting room while I sat in the bedroom and Dad sat beside me on the small sofa near the window.
He didn't say much.
He handed me a cup of coffee at some point.
That was enough.
"Are you angry?" he asked eventually.
"Yes," I said.
"But not the way I thought I would be."
"What way?"
I thought about it.
"I thought I'd feel humiliated.
I mostly just feel like I wasted two years being careful about the wrong things."
Dad was quiet for a moment.
"You weren't careful about the wrong things.
You were kind.
That's different."
I looked at my wedding ring.
"She called me easy, Dad.
Lorraine.
She said I was easy."
His jaw moved.
"She was wrong about what she was measuring."
The sitting room door opened.
Rebecca came through first.
Patterson followed, and behind him, Owen.
Owen looked like a man who had just been told the price of something and was still deciding whether to pay it.
"He'll initial the acknowledgment letter and the account hold," Rebecca said.
"He's contesting the representation statement."
"On what grounds?" Dad asked.
Patterson answered.
"Mr.
Mercer maintains that all documents were presented accurately and that any misunderstanding about their terms is a matter of interpretation."
"The supplemental agreement was never shown to my client," Rebecca said.
"My client disputes that characterization."
"Your client's mother discussed it on a recorded phone call while my client was in the same room."
Patterson paused.
Just briefly.
But I saw it.
"We'd like to review the recording before any further—"
"You'll receive a copy through proper channels," Rebecca said.
"Along with the property transfer history for the two previous Mercer transactions involving Richard Hale."
Patterson looked at Owen.
Owen looked at the floor.
"Fine," Patterson said.
"The representation statement stays open pending review.
Everything else, he'll sign today."
Owen signed at the writing desk.
He didn't look at me while he did it.
When he finished, Patterson gathered the papers and left without further conversation.
Owen stood by the desk for a moment.
Then he turned.
"I want you to know," he said, "that this wasn't— it wasn't supposed to go this way."
I waited.
"My mother had a plan.
She always has a plan.
I thought—" He stopped.
"I thought I could manage it.
Keep everyone happy."
"By forging my signature."
"That wasn't me.
That was Richard."
"You knew about Richard."
He didn't answer.
"You knew about the LLC," I said.
"You knew about the supplemental agreement.
You knew about the other women."
"Mara—"
"Did you love me at all?
Even a little?"
The question came out quieter than I intended.
I hadn't planned to ask it.
But it was the only thing left that I actually wanted to know.
Owen looked at me for a long time.
"I thought I could," he said.
It was the most honest thing he had ever said to me.
It was also the last thing I needed to hear.
I nodded once.
Turned to Rebecca.
"What's next?"
"We file for annulment Monday morning," she said.
"Grounds of fraud.
Given the recording and the documents, it will move quickly."
I picked up my bag from the bed.
My torn veil was still lying beside the pillow.
I left it there.
At the door, Owen spoke one more time.
"My mother is going to be furious."
I looked back at him.
May you like
"I know," I said.
"I'm counting on it."
