I did confront Eric, once, through lawyers, in a deposition. He tried, even then, the old charm.
"Clara, this got out of hand. We can still—"
"Eric," I said. "You married a risk auditor and spent ten years thinking you'd married someone who wouldn't notice. You stole $480,000 from me over two years and were so sure I'd never look at my own accounts that you documented your whole plan while I was hiding in our bathroom.
You didn't get out of hand.
You got audited.
By the one person on earth best qualified to end you.
You should have checked what your wife did for a living before you decided she was too trusting to catch you."
PART 5 — FINAL
That was three years ago.
I kept the house. I live in it still — my grandmother's house, the home that was almost stolen, that I defended with the skills my career gave me and the warning a good neighbor gave me on a driveway. It's more mine now than it's ever been. Every room is peaceful in a way it never was when Eric moved through it like a guest calculating the value of the furniture.
