Chapter 5 - Ryan Had Used My Name Because Edward Trusted It
Ryan came to:
my hotel.
I did not let him inside.
We spoke in:
the lobby.
Public.
He still had a faint mark on his cheek from nothing? Actually Lauren was slapped, not Ryan. No mark. Keep.
He looked:
exhausted.
“Lauren, come home.”
“No.”
“We need to talk privately.”
“No.”
“My mother is panicking.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“Please.”
I stared.
“Did you sign my name to the Marrow Ridge consent?”
“No.”
Immediate.
Too fast.
“Did you ask someone else to?”
“No.”
“Did Mom?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why did you tell Edward I approved?”
Ryan’s face changed.
“Who told you that?”
“Dad wrote it.”
Silence.
There.
I asked again.
“Why did you tell him I approved?”
“Because I thought you would.”
“That isn’t approval.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He rubbed:
his face.
Then finally:
“The money had already moved.”
“How much did you know?”
“Not all of it.”
“How much?”
“Mom told me Marrow Ridge had advanced Aster about eight hundred thousand.”
Actual amount was:
1.4 million.
“What did you think my signature was for?”
“To document family approval.”
“Why mine?”
“Dad trusted you.”
There.
That was why.
Not because I owned:
anything.
Because Edward knew I understood:
risk.
Ryan needed my name beside:
his.
I said:
“Did you sign it?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I gave Mom the scan from that equipment lease.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“She said lawyers needed a specimen to prepare the final packet.”
I stared at:
him.
“You gave her my signature?”
“I didn’t think she was going to copy it.”
“You gave your mother my signature specimen for a document I had not reviewed?”
“Lauren—”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
There.
He wanted the difference between:
forgery
and:
facilitating forgery
to save our marriage.
It did not.
Then I asked:
“Did you know about my protector role before Saturday?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“About six weeks.”
“You let your mother call me a nobody at a lunch where you needed my legal authority?”
“I didn’t know she was going to say that.”
“You slapped me.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
“No.”
“Look at me.”
He did.
“You hit me because I would not apologize for asking about a document you knew you needed me to sign.”
His eyes filled.
“I lost control.”
“That sentence means nothing.”
“I was under pressure.”
“That explains nothing.”
“Lauren.”
“Did your mother tell you to make me sign?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you I would?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Ryan looked away.
“What did she say?”
“She said you hated conflict.”
There.
Correct.
Then:
“She said if I made it clear this was about loyalty, you’d sign to prove you weren’t after the inheritance.”
The trap was almost elegant.
Question the document?
Gold digger.
Refuse to sign?
Gold digger.
Sign?
Then the vineyard could refinance and rescue:
Ryan.
I asked:
“Did you know Sierra Ridge’s deadline was nineteen days away?”
“Yes.”
“How much do you owe?”
He swallowed.
“About one-point-seven.”
“And your mother?”
“She guaranteed part.”
“How much?”
“Eight-fifty.”
“So your mother’s house and your money are at risk.”
“Yes.”
“And you both decided my signature was the easiest solution.”
Ryan whispered:
“Yes.”
I thought that was the full betrayal.
Then I asked about:
our joint finances.
His face changed again.
“Ryan.”
Silence.
“How much of our money did you put into Aster House?”
“Lauren—”
“How much?”
He finally answered:
“Three hundred and eighteen thousand.”
My stomach dropped.
I knew about:
twenty-five.
The rest had been moved gradually over:
two years.
And one of those transfers occurred the day after Edward told Ryan:
The vineyard will not cover another dollar of Aster House.
When his father closed one wallet, my husband quietly opened:
May you like
mine.
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