After the Crash, I Let My Cheating Husband Die

Chapter 2

I had my attorney, Olivia Hart, meet me at the police station.

Tessa was already inside. Seven months pregnant, her belly jutting out, she still shot to her feet when she saw me.

"You thief!"

"Careful," I kindly warned her. "If you fall in a police station, I can't afford to compensate you for a second child."

Tessa's face went white. Then she lunged at me. Before her hand could touch me, I stepped behind an officer.

"Please put this on the record," I said. "The complainant attempted to assault me."

My attorney opened her folder without expression. After five years of working with me, she'd learned not to comment on my sense of humor.

The officer told Tessa to sit and asked what was missing.

"Everything! The furniture, the paintings, the jewelry, and the safe."

Olivia laid the corporate ownership records, wire transfers, furniture receipts, and video from the move across the table one by one.

Tessa picked up a receipt. Her fingers began to shake.

"Gavin gave these things to me."

"Then you should've told him to use his own money," I said. "He charged them to the company purchasing card, and the bill was paid from a joint account I authorized. Half of every dollar he spent on you belonged to me."

The officer glanced at me. "Please answer only questions related to the alleged theft."

"I didn't steal anything. I simply took back what belonged to me."

Tessa was no longer listening. She pulled out her phone and called Gavin over and over. Every call went to voicemail.

"He promised to take me to my prenatal appointment today. Why isn't he here?"

I smiled. "Sweetheart, he'll always be on his way to pick you up."

Tessa flew into a rage. "You stole my home, and now you're laughing at me!"

"The property belongs to Hale-Morgan Holdings," Olivia said. "Following Mr. Hale's death, his wife has full authority over it."

"Death?" Tessa slowly turned toward me. "Who died?"

"Gavin."

"He texted me yesterday."

"That's why he died yesterday."

Tessa stared at me as if she expected me to laugh. I slid her a copy of the direct cremation authorization.

"The black sports car that went over the guardrail on Coastal Highway. It should be on the news. Look it up yourself."

She pressed a hand to her belly, all color draining from her lips. Her phone lit up with a reminder for her prenatal appointment.

The officer reviewed the inventory and asked if any of Tessa's identification, clothes, or personal jewelry was missing.

I toyed with my wedding ring. "She arrived at my house in rags, looking like a beggar. My husband and I took her in. We bought everything she owns. How could she possibly have personal jewelry to lose?"

Tessa clenched her teeth. At last, she said, "Nothing is missing."

The police confirmed that I owned the apartment. Still, because Tessa was pregnant, they gave her formal notice to vacate in three days.

As I left the station, Tessa hurried after me, cradling her belly.

"Gavin would never let you treat me this way."