PART 13 – THE STRANGER KNEW MY NAME BEFORE I SPOKE A SINGLE WORD
I didn’t move.
My back was pressed against the bedroom wall.
The stranger set his leather briefcase on the dining table with surprising care.
“I promise,” he said evenly, “if I wanted to hurt you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
I stayed silent.
He glanced toward the bedroom doorway.
“Mrs. Blake…”
A brief pause.
“Or would you rather I call you Nora Whitmore?”
The sound of my maiden name made my stomach tighten.
Very few people still used it.
Slowly, I stepped out from behind the bedroom door.
He looked to be in his early sixties.
Gray hair.
Navy suit.
No wedding ring.
His expression wasn’t hostile.
It was… tired.
“You know who I am,” I said.
“Yes.”
“But I don’t know you.”
He reached into his jacket.
Every instinct told me to run.
Instead of a weapon, he produced a business card and laid it on the table before taking a step back.
“I’d rather you pick it up after I’ve moved away.”
He retreated several feet.
Only then did I walk forward.
The card read:
Jonathan Mercer
Estate and Trust Attorney
Attorney.
Another attorney.
It felt as though every answer in my life now involved lawyers.
“I’ve never heard of you.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because this apartment belongs to my client.”
“Elise?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Felix?”
Again, he shook his head.
“It belongs to the trust.”
The trust.
My pulse quickened.
“The same trust from the video?”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“So you’ve already seen part of the recordings.”
Part of the recordings.
Not all of them.
“You know about those too?”
“I know much more than I wish I did.”
He looked around the apartment.
“This place wasn’t created for an affair.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s an asset.”
“An asset?”
“A very expensive one.”
Nothing he said made sense.
“There are pictures of Felix and Elise everywhere.”
“I know.”
“They’ve been living here.”
“I know.”
“She’s carrying his baby.”
He hesitated.
“I’m not prepared to confirm that.”
The answer caught me off guard.
“You’re not denying it.”
“I’m saying assumptions are dangerous.”
I folded my arms.
“People keep telling me that.”
“Because they’re true.”
He opened his briefcase and removed a thin folder.
“I have exactly five minutes before someone realizes I’m here.”
He slid a single document across the table.
“I want you to read only the highlighted section.”
At the top was a title:
Blake Family Legacy Trust
Below it were several paragraphs of legal language.
Only one sentence had been highlighted.
Primary beneficiary requirements must be satisfied before final distribution of trust assets.
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone has to meet certain conditions.”
“What conditions?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because the court sealed that section.”
Court.
Again.
Everything kept leading back to the courts.
I looked closer.
Most of the page had been blacked out.
Only fragments remained visible.
Marriage…
Living beneficiary…
Minor child…
Continuous household…
The rest was hidden beneath thick black redactions.
I looked up.
“Is this why Felix married me?”
Jonathan didn’t answer.
Instead, he asked,
“Has he suggested moving to Boston?”
I stared at him.
“How do you know that?”
“He asked you recently, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Jonathan closed his eyes for a moment.
“I was afraid I was already too late.”
“What happens in Boston?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“You keep saying that.”
“And every answer I refuse to give is one I’m legally forbidden to reveal.”
Frustration boiled inside me.
“Then why am I here?”
“Because there is one thing I can tell you.”
He leaned forward.
“Do not sign anything.”
“What?”
“No matter who gives it to you.”
“My husband?”
“Anyone.”
“My mother-in-law?”
“Anyone.”
“My lawyer?”
He paused.
“Especially if they tell you it’s only a routine family document.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
“Why?”
“Because once you sign…”
He stopped speaking.
A loud knock echoed through the apartment.
Three sharp knocks.
Jonathan’s face lost all color.
“They’re early.”
“Who?”
He gathered the papers back into his briefcase.
“You have to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you explain.”
“Nora.”
His voice became urgent.
“The trust has been waiting for Sunday almost as long as your husband has.”
Another knock.
Harder this time.
Then a man’s voice from the hallway.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Jonathan looked directly into my eyes.
“There is one person you haven’t questioned yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve spent days asking who Felix has been lying to.”
He picked up his briefcase.
“You should be asking…”
His voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“…who has been lying to Felix.”
Before I could ask another question…
The apartment door handle began to turn.
