Abigail understood then that the conversation behind that door had only opened the first crack.

Part 2

Abigail didn’t sleep. At seven the next morning she met Naomi at a quiet diner across from Fairview Park. She’d expected an opportunist. Instead, a young woman came in carrying a blue folder, her hands visibly shaking.

“I was Spencer’s business manager,” Naomi said as she sat down. “I’m also the one who was on the phone with him yesterday. I asked whether he felt guilty, because I’ve been seeing things for months that I can’t stay quiet about anymore.”

Inside the folder were bank statements and loan applications in Abigail’s name. Two legal documents listed her as jointly liable for loans totaling six hundred and eighty thousand dollars.

The signature looked like hers. It was forged.

“Spencer used copies of your personal documents,” Naomi said quietly. “When the suppliers came after him, he told them you’d end up paying.”