PART6: For Months, My Husband’s Girlfriend Tipped Me $20 While Telling Me His Secrets—Then She Revealed What He Planned to Put in My Name

PART6

“Patrice,” I whispered, “what exactly is the company?”

She gave me the name.

Harris Construction Holdings LLC.

I nearly laughed.

“That sounds like his company.”

“It is.”

“No. His company is Harris Commercial Roofing.”

“I know.”

“Then why is there another one?”

“Because the second company owns assets.”

“What assets?”

She hesitated.

“That’s the interesting part.”

I waited.

“Three pieces of commercial property. Two storage facilities. Several pieces of heavy equipment. A warehouse. And what appears to be an interest in a marina.”

I closed my eyes.

The boat.

Of course.

The boat wasn’t just a boat.

“How much?”

“We’re still tracing everything. But the preliminary value is somewhere between four and six million dollars.”

My eyes opened.

“Patrice…”

“I know.”

“No. You don’t understand.”

“What?”

“I’ve spent the last two years believing we were broke.”

There was silence.

Then Patrice said quietly,

“I know.”

“I cleaned offices on Saturdays.”

“I know.”

“I delayed medical appointments.”

“I know.”

“I wore the same winter coat for seven years because Dale said we needed to cut expenses.”

“I know.”

My voice cracked.

“And he was sitting on millions?”

Patrice didn’t answer immediately.

Finally she said, “Carol, there is something else.”

I almost laughed.

“Of course there is.”

“The company was formed twelve years ago.”

“Twelve?”

“Yes.”

“Who owns it?”

She paused.

“You do.”

My mouth went dry.

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“I believe you.”

“I never signed anything.”

“That’s what we’re going to prove.”

I stood up.

“What do I do?”

“Don’t confront him.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Don’t call him.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t warn Ashley.”

I stopped.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good. Because if Dale realizes we know about the second company, he could start moving assets.”

I walked to the bedroom window.

Across the street, an elderly man was watering his roses.

Everything looked peaceful.

But inside my house, my entire marriage was collapsing one document at a time.

“What should I do?”

“Come to my office at nine.”

“I’ll be there.”

“And Carol?”

“Yes?”

“Bring every financial document you have.”

I looked toward the hallway.

“I don’t have many.”

“Bring whatever you can find.”

“Okay.”

I hung up.

Then I stood there for another minute.

I didn’t cry.

Not yet.

Instead, I walked into Dale’s office.

I had avoided that room for years.

He always called it his “business room.”

He kept the door locked.

He told me it was because contracts were confidential.

I had never questioned him.

Not once.

Now I looked at the lock differently.

I opened the drawer where he kept spare keys.

The first drawer was empty.

The second contained pens, receipts, and old business cards.

The third was locked.

I found a key taped underneath the desk.

My heart began beating faster.

I unlocked it.

Inside were folders.

Dozens of them.

I started pulling them out.

Roofing contracts.

Equipment leases.

Tax documents.

Insurance policies.

Bank statements.

And then I found a folder with my name on it.

CAROL ANN HARRIS — SIGNATURE DOCUMENTS

I sat down.

CONTINUE READING PART7…