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Kane chuckles. “It can be lovely if you want it to be. But what I plan on doing to you will be far from.”
Sweet Jesus. My lying husband is robbing me blind, there’s every chance my sister is now acting as a high-class escort, and Kane Alexander is threatening to tear me apart in the most indecent way possible.
And I have no idea which problem to deal with first.
10
“Mrs. Cooper, I’m sorry.”
“Blythe. Just call me Blythe.” I sigh in irritation.
Wendy, calling from the bank once again sounds extremely nervous, and I contemplate saying now is not a good time and hanging up on her. But she’s rung for a reason and now I have yet another problem to pile on top of all the others.
“Blythe, I’m sorry for disrupting your day, but I need to discuss something with you as a matter of urgency.”
Pushing Kane’s project plans aside, I stand from my office chair and walk to the sofa. Something tells me I’m going to need all the comfort I can get.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“I grew concerned after you came to see me last week and placed an alert on the joint accounts you have. The credit card and mortgage accounts.”
My gut twists into one giant, painful knot. I hadn’t checked those because for as long as Shawn and I had been married, we’d never used the credit card, possessing it only for emergencies. We’d always had plenty of money flow from our own work, and fortunately, we’d never experienced any kind of emergency.
“Yes…” I encourage, dreading what she’s about to say.
“I placed alerts on any transaction over ten thousand dollars, and well, as it turns out, the credit card of fifty thousand has been maxed.”
The room spins and I fall back, landing on the soft cushions. I need to be sick. I should have taken care of the credit card last time I was at the bank. I should have removed my name from the account. Now, I’m responsible for paying it back.
“And the mortgage?”
“I’m sorry, Blythe. I was really hoping you’d know about this, but the house has been re-mortgaged.”
No! That can’t be right.
“To its total value?”
“Yes.”
The cell slips from my hand as I lunge for the waste paper bin, my breakfast and coffee working its way up. After a few heaves, I wipe my mouth with a tissue and find my cell. Wendy, bless her heart, is still on the line.
“Mrs. Cooper, Blythe,” she says, correcting herself. It’s even worse hearing his surname after revealing such news. “I really am very sorry.”
“I don’t understand how this is happening. I mean the credit card is easy enough to max out as it doesn’t require both signatures, but to re-mortgage the house, surely that requires both parties to come to the table. And I can assure you, I have no knowledge of this until now.”
“I understand, and you’re very much right. Unfortunately, the mortgage file is locked and above my clearance to gain access, but I highly recommend seeking counsel over this. Have you spoken with your husband?”
I hesitate to answer because I already know her response and it’s the last thing I want to do.
“Not yet I haven’t. He’s conveniently gone MIA.”
After a few pleasantries, I hang up with Wendy and contemplate my next move. A gentle tap on the door sees Amanda’s concerned face through the glass. She enters when I numbly nod.
“I heard you vomiting. Is everything okay? You don’t look so good.”
“How did it get to this point? I only ever loved him, and this is how he treats me.”
Because she doesn’t know all the details, Amanda kneels next to me and sighs heavily. I held her hand through a volatile break-up of her own, and now she’s repaying the favor.
“I don’t know why men have to be such cunts.” I throw a sideward glance at her interesting choice of words. “Don’t judge,” she quips, reading my mind. “I’m sure you’ve used that word a lot recently, even if it did remain simply a thought.”
I nod. She’s right.
“I don’t know what he’s done to get you so upset, but I do know you… and Blythe doesn’t take shit lying down. So, if you need to kick his ass, I’ll hold him still for you.”
I smile and squeeze her hand.
It won’t just be Shawn who’s getting the ass kicking. Whoever’s been conspiring with him at the bank is about to become a dead man, or woman, whichever the case may be.
* * *
Although it hasn’t been long since I moved into my apartment, sitting in the bedroom at the old house now seems so foreign, almost like I’m a guest at a hotel. Except, I’m not a guest. Breaking and entering isn’t the term I’d use either since I have a key. But as I wait to see if Shawn returns home, I look at the rumpled bedsheets and wonder if he’s had another woman in them. Was he just waiting for the day I finally packed up and left to be able to move on with someone else? Is Shawn even capable of that? Of course he is, because Shawn is a lying, manipulative bastard! But it still doesn’t change the fact that I miss our intimate times.
