Chapter 7 - WHAT LINDA REALLY WANTED
The next morning, Linda arrived.
She didn’t bring a suitcase.
She brought anger.
Claire let her through the gate only after I agreed.
Linda entered my living room and immediately started talking.
“You’re destroying Daniel.”
“No.”
I remained seated.
“Daniel destroyed Daniel.”
“You have enough money to fix this.”
There it was again.
Not help.
Not could you.
Fix it.
Like that had always been my purpose.
“How much do you think I have, Linda?”
Her eyes shifted.
That tiny movement answered a question I hadn’t asked.
“You know about my accounts.”
“Daniel is your husband.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She sat opposite me.
“Your father left you comfortable.”
“My father left me comfortable.”
“You don’t have children. What are you protecting it for?”
I stared at her.
She didn’t even seem embarrassed.
I suddenly understood that Linda had never viewed my money as mine.
She viewed it as unused family inventory.
The Malibu house.
My savings.
My investments.
Everything my father had spent his life building had become, in her mind, resources Daniel simply hadn’t extracted yet.
“You wanted $3,000 a month because Daniel couldn’t make the loan payment.”
“Yes.”
“And when that wasn’t enough?”
She said nothing.
“You were going after Malibu.”
“We were trying to save his future.”
“With my signature.”
Her face tightened.
“I did what mothers do.”
“No, Linda.”
I leaned forward.
“You did what desperate people do when they think the person paying the bills is too weak to stop them.”
For the first time since I had known her, Linda had no answer.
Then Claire entered.
She carried the cream property folder.
But there was another document beneath it.
“Emily, we received confirmation from the private lender.”
Linda stood immediately.
“What confirmation?”
Claire looked at me.
“The application was never funded.”
I exhaled.
Then Claire continued.
“But they retained the submission records.”
Linda’s face changed.
“What records?”
Claire placed the folder in front of me.
“Everything.”
Daniel’s email.
The uploaded documents.
The property information.
And the account used to submit them.
I looked at Linda.
May you like
She was already backing toward the door.
That was when I realized whose account it had been.
