My father’s old attorney.
“Mr. Bennett?”
There was silence on the other end.
“Nora?”
“Yes.”
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
I looked down at my stomach.
“But I’m finally ready.”
He understood immediately.
“Does this concern Julian?”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t speak to him.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good. Because there’s something you need to know.”
I stopped walking.
“What?”
“Your husband has been asking questions about your father’s trust.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind of questions?”
“Questions about whether you can access it before your child is born.”
I closed my eyes.
So that’s what this was really about.
Julian didn’t just want to leave me.
He wanted my money.
My father had left me a substantial family trust when he died. I had deliberately kept it separate from my marriage.
Julian knew it existed.
But he didn’t know the details.
Or so I had believed.
“Mr. Bennett,” I said quietly, “I need you to freeze every account connected to Julian.”
“Already done.”
I stopped.
“You already did it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father anticipated something like this.”
My breath caught.
“My father?”
“He left very specific instructions.”
“What instructions?”
The attorney hesitated.
“If you ever requested protection from your husband, I was instructed to activate a provision immediately.”
I stared through the airport window at the planes outside.
“What provision?”
“A marital protection clause.”
I had never heard of it.
“Mr. Bennett, what does that mean?”
“It means Julian cannot touch the trust.”
I exhaled slowly.
“And there’s more.”
“More?”
“The clause also contains a provision concerning your unborn child.”
My hand instinctively moved over my stomach.
“What provision?”
He lowered his voice.
“If your husband attempts to obtain control of the child’s inheritance through deception, the trust automatically transfers control to an independent trustee.”
I almost laughed.
My father had known.
Somehow, he had known.
