The Girl I Used to Be: A gripping and emotional page-turner Heidi Hostetter (best ereader under 100 .txt) 📖

short, Your Honor, she’d contributed nothing to our marital assets during the entirety of our marriage, so she deserves nothing from it.”

Jill drew her hands to her lap and squeezed them together so tightly that they cramped. He’d twisted the truth and made her sound awful, but if she objected, it would be part of the record and mediation would stop. Their case would be sent to trial and that was the last thing she wanted.

“Interesting sentiments from someone who is essentially a newlywed,” the judge mused as he turned his attention to Jill. “What do you have to say to this, Mrs. Goodman?”

Jill gathered her strength and replied, taking care to keep her tone even. “I didn’t have a job because Marc didn’t want me to have a job. He said that my place was by his side. As for children, Marc said he had three of his own and didn’t want more.”

“I see.” The judge sighed. “I’ll ask you again. Do you want your objection to be part of these proceedings?”

“No,” Jill answered firmly. “I do not.”

“Alright then.” The judge nodded and consulted his list. “The final item on the list is a house in Dewberry Beach. Tell me about this house, Mr. Goodman.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Your Honor.” Marc drew himself up and his tone changed again, as if he’d been coached. “The Dewberry house was built as a model for a development, similar to the Summit neighborhood. Unfortunately, the Dewberry Beach project didn’t catch on.”

It was then that Jill remembered what Nadia had said on the phone the day Cush visited her.

“That’s not right, Your Honor,” Jill blurted, then glanced at Marc. She was on to something, she just didn’t know what, so she stalled. “The house in Dewberry Beach—there’s a mortgage.”

“There’s nothing to see, Your Honor.” Marc shrugged, projecting a coolness that seemed off to her.

Jill ignored him. “We need to look at it.”

“I don’t see how this—” Marc began.

“There’s no harm in looking.” The judge shuffled through the papers for the Dewberry Beach house. “Especially since this is Mrs. Goodman’s first objection.” He scanned a page in front of him, then paused, his finger holding his place. “This bank, Mr. Goodman—Sunshine Trust. I’m not familiar with them.”

“They’re based in Freeport, Bahamas.”

A sprinkle of goosebumps rose on Jill’s arms as she remembered Cush’s trip there just weeks before Marc’s birthday party. An unusual vacation choice for August.

“And do you do much business with this bank?” Judge Atkinson asked.

“Not yet, Your Honor. We’re exploring the idea of a partnership. I’m not sure anything will come of it.”

Was it Jill’s imagination or had Marc tensed? His face was utterly expressionless, but his body seemed coiled.

“I see.” The judge flipped through the documents on Dewberry Beach with polite efficiency until he came to the final page. Then he stopped and raised his gaze to Marc, his expression hard. “And is your wife part of this new endeavor? Because I suspect she might not be, given your previous testimony. You did say she had no interest in your company’s business, didn’t you?”

The judge pushed the packet toward Jill and pointed to the signature block at the bottom of the last page. “Mrs. Goodman, is that your signature?”

It looked very much like hers, but it wasn’t.

Jill glanced at Marc to see his face had drained of color.

She turned back to the judge. “I’m not sure. Can you tell me what this is? It’s been a while and I may have forgotten.”

“This document is a mortgage, a loan on the house in Dewberry Beach. The mortgage is in your name, with your husband and Cushman Lawrence as witnesses.” The judge laid down the paper. “It’s interesting that you don’t seem to remember. Mortgages are a serious undertaking. Documents are finalized in person so you would have to have been there. Do you remember taking a trip to Sunshine Trust in Freeport, Bahamas?”

Nadia. This was what she had meant when she said Jill might never speak to her again when she found out what she’d done. She’d gone to Freeport with Cushman. It was Nadia who had forged Jill’s signature on the mortgage.

“Forging signatures on banking documents is a serious federal crime,” the judge continued. “If this is not your signature, Mrs. Goodman, these divorce proceedings will cease immediately. Your husband and his friends will be investigated for banking fraud. All company records will be audited and years of transactions will be re-examined. The process could take months, longer if the investigation uncovers evidence. During that time your husband’s company assets will be frozen. It will not be business as usual, I’m afraid.”

Jill looked at Marc, then back at the judge. “May I have a moment, sir, to speak with my husband?”

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” Judge Atkinson rose. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

As the door closed behind him, Jill watched Marc collapse against the back of his chair. If she could freeze one moment in her life to relive over and over, it would be this one. Just for the look on Marc’s face when he’d realized the power she held over him, over his company. Part of her wanted him to be investigated and punished. But the bigger part of her just wanted to be rid of him.

“Now, Jilly.” Marc regrouped, softening his gaze and offering a tentative smile. “You know this is all a misunder—”

That might have worked before, but it didn’t work now. Jill held up her hand and Marc paused, assuming she was willing to bargain. She wasn’t.

“Pay it off,” she said.

“Pay what off?” Marc echoed. He seemed honestly confused.

“The mortgage, Marc. The mortgage you and your stupid friends took out in my name. Pay it off right now and I’ll let it go. I won’t press charges.”

“Okay, fine. As soon as the house sells—”

“No. Not when the house sells—now. That house has been on the market for so long that I don’t think it will ever—” Jill gasped as the realization struck her.