Chapter 6 - The Account with Her Name
Brenda had always claimed she relied on Gavin for every expense.
She complained about prescription costs and accused me of wasting money on fresh flowers.
Yet the account Daniel identified had received regular company transfers for more than a year.
He cautioned that the entries did not prove wrongdoing by themselves.
We needed the underlying bank records, contracts, and authorizations.
I was grateful he insisted on that distinction.
Anger was a terrible substitute for proof.
At the preliminary hearing Gavin appeared in a spotless jacket, supported on one side by Brenda and on the other by his attorney.
He looked at me as though we were attending a charity luncheon.
“Claire,” he said gently.
That voice used to undo me.
Now I remembered how it sounded when he apologized after grabbing my wrist.
I stayed beside Mara.
The judge reviewed the immediate safety concerns and the available statements, setting temporary boundaries while scheduling further proceedings.
Gavin denied threatening me.
Brenda testified that she had never seen him hurt anyone.
I showed the recording of his hand around my wrist.
The room became very still.
Brenda watched the screen with the same narrowed eyes she used when a housekeeper missed a spot on the counter.
When the clip ended, she claimed it was being taken out of context.
The judge asked how tightly Gavin needed to hold my arm to discuss oatmeal.
Brenda had no answer.
Outside, Gavin pushed past reporters who had followed his public posts.
Mara kept me moving, but I heard him call after me.
“You're destroying everything we built.”
I did not turn.
The home security company called during the drive back.
Someone had requested administrative access using a notarized power of attorney.
The document named Gavin as my agent.
I had never signed such a document.
The company had suspended the request pending verification.
Mara asked them to preserve it.
That evening a new copy arrived through secure email.
The notary seal was legitimate.
The signature was not.
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And the witness line carried a name I knew from my aunt's funeral.
