Chapter 5 - MY MOTHER-IN-LAW HAD BEEN LIED TO TOO
Jolene came to Rachel’s office two days later.
She did not apologize for the foot washing.
She did not apologize for the insults.
She arrived in a navy suit, sat across from me, and behaved as if we were conducting a hostile merger.
“I am here for information.”
Rachel corrected her.
“You’re here because Sloan agreed to share copies of documents produced in her matrimonial matter that appear to concern your funds. I do not represent you.”
“I understand.”
I wasn’t sure she did.
Jolene had signed a contract to sell her Scarsdale house in April.
Vance advised her to accept an off-market buyer because interest rates and taxes were “about to crush the market.”
The sale closed in May.
After paying off a small mortgage and costs, Jolene received just over $1.4 million.
She kept about $600,000.
She transferred $800,000 to an account Vance specified.
He told her it was temporary escrow for a condominium purchase.
It wasn’t.
The receiving account belonged to Bellamy Urban Imports.
The family company was struggling.
I had known business was slower.
I did not know how bad it was.
Shipping costs had climbed.
Two major hotel clients canceled orders.
A warehouse lease renewal had gone badly.
Vance had been moving personal money into the company for almost a year.
“Why would he need your money?” I asked.
Jolene’s face tightened.
“His father built that company.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“He would never steal from it.”
“I asked why he needed your money.”
She stood.
The meeting almost ended there.
Then Rachel slid the transfer record back toward her.
“You should get independent counsel and financial advice. Today.”
Jolene looked down at the page.
Something in her changed.
Not enough to make her kind.
Enough to make her uncertain.
“I gave him everything after his father died,” she said.
Her husband, Gordon, had died four years earlier.
Vance had taken over daily management.
Jolene retained a minority ownership interest but no longer worked in the business.
“He said I deserved to stop worrying.”
That phrase sounded painfully familiar.
Vance told me the same thing whenever he wanted control.
Stop worrying.
I’ll handle it.
Trust me.
It was one of the reasons I had let him manage our insurance renewals and household contracts.
One of the reasons I didn’t notice something else until that afternoon.
My credit-monitoring service showed a recent hard inquiry.
A mortgage lender.
I had not applied for a mortgage.
Rachel immediately told me not to speculate.
We requested information through legitimate channels.
The answer came the next morning.
An application had been started for a substantial cash-out refinance involving my Tribeca address.
It was incomplete.
No loan had funded.
But the application contained my name.
My estimated income.
My property information.
And Vance’s phone number.
The lender had never received my final signed consent.
That was why nothing had closed.
I stared at the file.
Jolene’s house money had already gone into the company.
May you like
Now somebody was preparing to reach into my home too.
And suddenly the demand that I become a more obedient wife did not feel like ordinary cruelty.
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