I stared at the screen. There was my name. Elena Marie Hartley. Agreeing to dissolve a marriage I thought was just going through a rough patch. We had grown distant, yes. Marcus worked long hours; I traveled for gallery shows. But divorce? Behind my back?
“There’s more,” Maya said. “The LLC that he’s transferring the house to? VIM Holdings. I ran a search on the registered agent.”
She slid a piece of paper across the desk.
“It’s owned by a woman named Vivian Monroe. Does that name mean anything to you?”
It felt like a physical blow to the chest.
“Yes,” I managed to say. “She’s an associate at Marcus’s firm. Twenty-six. Wharton grad. I’ve met her at the Christmas parties. She’s… she’s his protégée.”
“She’s his exit strategy,” Maya corrected.
Vivian Monroe. I pictured her immediately. Sharp, ambitious, perfectly put together. The kind of woman who wore five-inch heels as a power move. Marcus had mentioned her brilliance on the Cascade Merger. He had praised her work ethic.
VIM Holdings. Vivian Monroe. He hadn’t even been creative.
“Oh God,” I whispered, pressing my hands to my eyes. “He’s stealing the house to give to her.”
“He’s stealing everything,” Maya said. “But he made a mistake. He got arrogant.”
Maya stood up and walked to the window, her silhouette framed by the stormy sky.
“Here is what we are going to do. You are going to go home. You are going to act completely normal. You said Marcus is throwing that New Year’s Eve dinner at Odyssey?”
“Yes,” I said. “He invited eight other couples. Clients. Friends. It’s a huge production.”
Odyssey was a rooftop restaurant in the Seaport District. Floor-to-ceiling glass, views of the skyline, four hundred dollars a plate. It was Marcus’s favorite stage.
