Chapter 5 - Nine Hundred Thousand Dollars
The policy was worth nine hundred thousand dollars.
Natalie had purchased it eight years earlier after a flight attendant she knew died in a car accident and left two children with almost nothing.
Ethan had always been the primary beneficiary.
Until four weeks ago.
According to the insurer’s online record, Allison Grant had been added as a fifty-percent beneficiary.
Ethan felt sick.
Natalie looked at the screen.
“I didn’t do that.”
The nurse backed away.
“I’m going to get the social worker again.”
Ethan sat beside the bed.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Natalie whispered, “She had all my information.”
“You trusted her.”
“I gave her a folder.”
“What folder?”
“My medical folder. Insurance cards. Leave paperwork. Password list.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“When?”
“The day after the biopsy.”
“Before you told me.”
“Yes.”
He hated how much that hurt.
He also hated that he understood why.
Natalie had believed her marriage was dying at the exact moment a doctor told her something inside her body might kill her.
And Allison had positioned herself as the only safe person left.
Ethan looked at the fake divorce screenshot again.
“Did she tell you anything else about me?”
Natalie hesitated.
“She said you’d asked her whether I had enough savings to live alone.”
“I asked her what you wanted for Christmas.”
Natalie stared.
“She said you’d started staying late at work because you were seeing someone.”
“I was staying late because my company lost two engineers.”
“She said your mother knew.”
“My mother has been dead for three years.”
Natalie covered her face.
Ethan’s anger shifted.
Not disappeared.
Shifted.
He could be furious at his wife and still see that someone had deliberately built a false world around her.
A detective from hospital police arrived forty minutes later.
Allison had left the property before security reached the garage.
Natalie gave a statement.
The detective photographed the proxy.
Then Ethan’s phone buzzed.
Bank alert.
TRANSFER COMPLETE: $48,000.
He opened the app.
Their joint emergency savings account had been nearly emptied.
Destination: AG Consulting LLC.
Allison Grant.
Ethan showed Natalie.
She turned white.
“I didn’t authorize that.”
The detective asked, “Does your sister have access to your banking?”
Natalie nodded slowly.
“I gave her temporary access because I thought I might be too sick to manage bills.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
Ethan stood.
“Change every password now.”
They spent the next hour locking accounts.
Checking credit.
Freezing cards.
Revoking permissions.
Then they found the worst one.
A new electronic application had been submitted that morning to borrow against Natalie’s retirement account.
Maximum hardship withdrawal.
Reason:
Terminal medical treatment.
Natalie was not terminal.
Dr. Shah had told her the opposite.
Her lymphoma was aggressive, but highly treatable.
The application requested $112,000.
Ethan stared at the contact phone number attached to the form.
It was Allison’s.
Natalie suddenly whispered, “She told me I was going to die.”
Ethan looked at her.
“What?”
“Allison said the doctor was trying to keep me calm. She said aggressive meant I probably had a year.”
Ethan’s stomach dropped.
“Did Dr. Shah ever say that?”
“No.”
“Then why did you believe Allison instead of your doctor?”
Natalie’s eyes filled.
“Because Allison said she talked to Dr. Shah privately.”
Ethan grabbed his coat.
“Where are you going?”
“To find your sister.”
Natalie caught his wrist.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s one more thing.”
She opened her airline bag.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
On the front, in Allison’s handwriting, were four words:
FOR AFTER YOU’RE GONE.
— — —
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