PAGE 4
The next morning, Chloe asked to meet.
Dana advised against meeting alone.
So we agreed on a café.
Public.
Leah came and sat across the room.
Chloe arrived wearing a long brown coat.
No Mason.
She looked terrible.
Eyes swollen.
No makeup.
She sat.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she said,
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded.
“So am I.”
She put both hands around her tea.
Then said,
“I didn’t know you existed like this.”
“Like what?”
“As his current fiancée.”
I swallowed.
“What did he say?”
“That you were an ex.”
“That you still lived in the apartment because the lease was complicated.”
I almost laughed.
“He told you I lived there?”
“Yes.”
“So why wasn’t he worried you’d visit?”
“He said you traveled constantly.”
I stared.
Interesting.
I did travel sometimes for work.
Mason used small truths to support huge lies.
Chloe continued.
“He said you barely spoke.”
“He said you were dating other people.”
I laughed.
She looked ashamed.
“I believed him.”
“I believed him too.”
That was the uncomfortable bond between us.
Then Chloe said,
“The wedding money.”
My body stiffened.
“What about it?”
She looked down.
“I think some of your money paid for my wedding.”
“I know.”
Her face crumpled.
“I didn’t.”
I believed her.
She pulled out a folder.
Receipts.
She had brought copies.
Venue.
Planner.
Hotel.
Decorations.
One invoice showed nine thousand dollars.
Our account.
Another showed eleven thousand five hundred.
C. Davenport Holdings.
I frowned.
“What is that?”
“My uncle’s investment company.”
My chest tightened.
“The wire went there.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked confused.
“I don’t know.”
Then she showed me a receipt.
Mason had told her the payment was repayment to her uncle for helping his father.
I remembered the transfer.
Eleven thousand five hundred.
Then the renovation company.
Eight thousand.
Chloe explained.
“My parents’ house had storm damage.”
I stared.
“Mason paid for it?”
“He said his father owed my family.”
I closed my eyes.
Our wedding fund.
Her wedding.
Her parents’ house.
Her uncle.
Every dollar had been redirected into his second life.
I whispered,
“Twenty-eight thousand five hundred.”
Chloe covered her face.
“I’ll pay it back.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
She looked up.
“I benefited.”
“You were lied to.”
“So were you.”
“Yes.”
“But the person who took it was Mason.”
Her eyes filled.
Then she whispered,
“I left him.”
That surprised me.
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Probably trying to find a third woman.”
I almost smiled.
Then stopped.
Chloe continued.
“My family wants me to annul the marriage.”
“Can you?”
“My attorney says possibly.”
“Depending on facts.”
She looked at me.
“Do you want copies of everything?”
“Yes.”
We exchanged records.
That meeting changed the entire situation.
Because Chloe had messages.
A lot of them.
Mason had been careless with her in ways he had not been with me.
One message.
Maya won’t notice the transfer.
She never checks the account because she trusts me.
My stomach dropped.
Another.
Once the wedding with Chloe is done, I’ll deal with the Chicago situation.
Another.
I can’t walk away from Maya until the apartment issue is sorted.
Then one that made me feel physically sick.
She’s useful right now because she’s covering most of the bills.
Leah later read that one.
She threw her phone across my living room.
I did not.
I saved it.
Sent it to Dana.
Useful.
That word hurt more than mistress.
More than wife.
More than betrayal.
Useful.
I had spent months driving until two in the morning.
Eating gas-station dinners.
Sleeping five hours.
Working weekends.
Because I believed I was building our future.
He saw me as useful.
Then another message exposed something else.
Chloe asked,
“Why don’t you just break up with Maya now?”
Mason replied,
“Because I need another few months.”
“Her income is covering the apartment and she’s putting money away.”
“After your family finishes helping Dad, I’ll move everything.”
Everything.
What did that mean?
Dana asked the same question.
We started looking.
The joint savings account was only one piece.
Our apartment lease was in both names.
Utilities mostly mine.
No hidden property.
But then I remembered my retirement loan.
Six months earlier, Mason had asked whether I could borrow against my 401(k) to cover the wedding venue.
I refused.
He became irritated.
Now I understood why.
He had been trying to access more cash.
Then my credit report revealed an inquiry.
A personal loan application.
I did not recognize it.
My stomach dropped.
Dana said,
“Freeze your credit now.”
I did.
All three bureaus.
Then we investigated.
The lender had received an application in my name.
Thirty-five thousand dollars.
Rejected because identity verification failed.
I stared.
“Who applied?”
“We’ll need records.”
Dana sent a formal dispute.
We preserved everything.
Mason had access to my Social Security number.
Tax documents.
Pay stubs.
Everything.
Now this was no longer only infidelity.
Potential identity fraud had entered the picture.
I felt stupid.
Then angry at myself for feeling stupid.
Trusting your fiancé with household records should not make you foolish.
Abusing that trust makes him dishonest.
Dana reminded me of that.
The lender later provided records.
Application email.
Not mine.
Phone number.
Mason’s secondary number.
Device location.
Near his office.
My name.
My income.
My employer.
My debt.
And a forged electronic consent.
My hands shook reading it.
The loan had not funded.
Thank God.
But the attempt existed.
Mason called that evening.
I answered with Dana on another line.
“Maya.”
His voice was exhausted.
“Hi.”
“We need to stop this.”
I almost laughed.
“Stop what?”
“Chloe’s family is threatening annulment.”
“That sounds like your marriage.”
“She’s sending you things.”
“Yes.”
“She doesn’t understand.”
“What?”
“My dad’s situation.”
I said nothing.
He continued.
“I was trying to keep him from losing everything.”
“So you took my wedding money?”
“I borrowed it.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I was going to replace it.”
“With what?”
Silence.
Then he said,
“You’re turning everyone against me.”
I laughed.
“I met your wife because you got into my rideshare car.”
Silence.
“You did this yourself.”
“Maya.”
Then his voice softened.
“You know me.”
I closed my eyes.
That sentence almost worked.
For half a second, I remembered five years.
Then I remembered the message.
She’s useful.
I said,
“No.”
“I knew the version you gave me.”
He began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you apply for a thirty-five-thousand-dollar loan in my name?”
Silence.
My whole body went cold.
“Mason?”
He whispered,
“I can explain.”
There it was.
Not denial.
I closed my eyes.
Dana texted me.
Do not continue.
I said,
“Speak to my attorney.”
Then ended the call.
The loan attempt became part of a formal investigation.
I cooperated.
I did not exaggerate.
I provided documents.
Mason eventually admitted he had submitted the application.
He claimed he intended to tell me if it was approved.
That explanation did not help him.
The bank transfers became a civil issue because he had authority on the joint account.
The loan application was different.
My identity.
My name.
My credit.
My consent.
Not his.
Chloe’s annulment process moved separately.
The baby’s paternity became another issue.
A prenatal paternity test had not been done.
Chloe decided to wait until birth for a formal test.
Mason insisted the baby was his.
Chloe’s former boyfriend also requested clarity.
That mess belonged to them.
I stayed out.
