And I don't sleep at all.
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
JULIE
The next daypasses in a blur of waiting and planning. I spent the morning researching divorce attorneys. I found two who specialize in high-net-worth divorces and complex financial situations. I call them both from the burner phone, leaving messages with their secretaries. I use a fake name and give the burner number as my contact information.
Then I call Gregory Hale's office. Dean's attorney. The one who called me after the wedding to tell me about the financial trap. The one who made it clear that Dean's "gift" couldn't be spoken of until the details of Dean's trust were revealed. I need to tell him I'm leaving my husband. And at some point, I’m going to need to tell Jamie the truth about everything. I'm just working up the courage.
The receptionist answers on the second ring. "Hale & Associates, how may I direct your call?"
"I need to speak with Gregory Hale," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's urgent."
"May I ask what this is regarding?"
"It's about the Stevens estate. I'm Julie Stevens. Dean Stevens' daughter-in-law."
There's a pause. "One moment, please."
I'm put on hold. Elevator music plays in my ear. I pace the length of the living room, my heart pounding.
Finally, a woman's voice comes on the line. "Mrs. Stevens, this is Margaret, Mr. Hale's secretary. I'm afraid Mr. Hale is unavailable. Can I take a message?"
"Yes. Please tell him I need to speak with him as soon as possible. It's important."
Another pause. "I see. And how can he reach you?"
"He can't call my cell phone," I say quickly. "I'll give you an alternate number. It's very important that he use this number andonlythis number. He cannot, under any circumstances, call my home or the cell phone number he used to contact me after my father-in-law died."
I rattle off the burner phone number. Margaret repeats it back to me, and I confirm it's correct.
"I'll make sure he gets the message," she says. "Is there anything else?"
"Just... Please tell him it's urgent. I need to speak with him sooner rather than later."
"I'll let him know. Have a good day, Mrs. Stevens."
She hangs up. I stare at the burner phone in my hand, wondering if I just made a huge mistake.
"You okay?" Jamie asks from the kitchen doorway.
"I don't know. I just called Dean's attorney."
"And?"
"And he's out of the office. His secretary took a message." I set the phone down on the coffee table. "I don't know if he'll call back. I don't even know if I should have called in the first place."
"You should have," Jamie says firmly. "You need to know what you're dealing with. And if anyone can tell you, it's him."
We spend the rest of the day trying to distract ourselves. We watch movies—stupid comedies that none of us really pay attention to. We order burritos for lunch. We play cards. We talk about everything except what's happening right now, what Marcus might be seeing, what Asher might be doing. It's surreal. Like we're on vacation, except we're not. I’m hiding from my husband, waiting for proof that my marriage is a lie. The damn burner phone doesn't ring. By the time evening comes, I'm crawling out of my skin with anxiety.
"He's not going to call today," I say, staring at the phone.
"He might not have anything to report yet," Ryan says. "Give it time."
"I don't want to give it time. I want to know."
