Chapter 5 - The Other Woman's Warning"I DIDN'T KNOW HE WAS STILL MARRIED WHEN HE PROPOSED TO ME."
Olivia Keene's voice trembled across the café table.
I stared at the woman who had received the diamond ring my money had purchased.
She looked nothing like the villain I'd imagined during the worst nights of my marriage.
She was thirty-six, elegantly dressed in a charcoal coat, with dark blonde hair pulled into a loose knot.
Her eyes were tired.
And she wasn't wearing a ring.
We'd agreed to meet in a quiet café near downtown Ottawa.
Helena knew where I was, and Olivia had agreed that we could share relevant documents with our attorneys.
I hadn't expected to feel sympathy for her.
But as she sat opposite me, nervously turning her coffee cup, I recognized something familiar.
Fear.
"Grant told me you'd been separated for three years," she continued.
I shook my head.
"We were still living together for part of the last year."
Olivia closed her eyes.
"He said the legal paperwork was a formality."
"That's what Grant says whenever the truth becomes inconvenient."
She gave a sad, exhausted laugh.
"I suppose I should have asked more questions."
"Maybe. But he's very good at making people doubt themselves."
She looked at me.
"Yes. He is."
For several moments, we sat in silence.
Outside, pedestrians hurried through the chilly November afternoon.
I studied Olivia's hands.
There was a faint indentation on her ring finger.
"Where's the diamond ring?"
She looked down.
"I gave it back."
"When?"
"Three days ago."
That surprised me.
"Why?"
"Because Grant asked me to sign something."
She reached into her handbag and removed a slim folder.
I immediately recognized the Northstar logo.
A silver compass inside a blue square.
My stomach tightened.
Olivia opened the folder.
"Grant said Warren Pike was helping him expand a commercial property investment business."
"He told Evelyn something similar."
"He said investors wanted assurance that his company had strong financial support."
"And?"
"He showed me a presentation."
She slid several pages across the table.
I read the first page.
Northstar Private Property Growth Initiative.
The second page listed projected returns.
The third contained photographs of planned developments.
Then I reached the fourth.
My company's logo appeared prominently across the top.
Carter Forensic Consulting.
Below it was a paragraph claiming that my firm had agreed to provide financial oversight and guarantee specified Northstar obligations.
I felt my hands become cold.
"Simone?" Olivia asked.
I looked up.
"I've never authorized this."
She swallowed.
"Grant told me you had."
"He's lying."
Her face crumpled slightly.
"I was afraid you'd say that."
I continued reading.
The document referred to a credit facility of six hundred forty thousand dollars.
It claimed my company would stand behind certain financial commitments.
And it contained what appeared to be my electronic signature.
I stared at the page.
Grant wasn't simply borrowing money and hoping I wouldn't notice.
He was using my professional reputation to persuade other people to trust him.
"Did you invest?" I asked.
Olivia nodded reluctantly.
"Forty thousand dollars."
I looked at her.
"Your own money?"
"Yes. Savings I'd set aside for a property renovation."
"Where did it go?"
"Into an account controlled by Northstar."
I exhaled slowly.
"Olivia, you need to contact your bank and speak with your own attorney."
"I already have."
"Good."
She hesitated.
"There's something else."
I waited.
"Grant asked me whether I'd be willing to use my house as additional security."
I stared at her.
"Your house?"
"I own a small property outside Toronto. He said a short-term guarantee would help the investment close."
"Did you sign?"
"No."
I felt a wave of relief.
"Why not?"
"Because my father taught me never to sign a financial guarantee without having an independent lawyer read it."
For the first time since we sat down, I smiled.
"Your father sounds like a smart man."
"He was."
Her voice softened.
"He died two years ago. The house was his."
I looked at her differently.
Grant had chosen a woman with property, savings, and professional connections.
Just as he'd once chosen a woman building a successful company.
I began to wonder whether his romantic relationships had always involved the same calculation.
"What happened when you refused?" I asked.
"Grant became angry."
"How angry?"
"He said I didn't trust him. That I was humiliating him in front of Warren."
I almost laughed.
Those were the same accusations Grant had used against me for years.
Olivia continued.
"Then he said something strange."
"What?"
"He said you had never questioned him this much."
I looked down at the folder.
A sharp sadness passed through me.
For years, my willingness to help had been presented as proof of love.
Now I was beginning to understand that Grant had treated generosity as permission.
Permission to take.
Permission to demand.
Permission to lie.
Olivia reached into her handbag again.
"There's another reason I contacted you."
She removed a printed email.
It was from a private lender called Maple Bridge Credit.
The message thanked Olivia for attending an introductory investment meeting and referenced documentation supporting Northstar's borrowing arrangements.
Then I noticed the address on the application.
My Ottawa condominium.
"Why is my address here?"
Olivia shook her head.
"I don't know."
I read further.
The correspondence listed me as a personal guarantor.
Not merely my company.
Me.
Simone Carter.
And the attached guarantee bore a signature copied from a document I'd signed during the divorce proceedings.
My hands began to tremble.
If someone had forged a personal guarantee, I could face collection demands and a legal dispute over a debt I'd never authorized.
The lender would have to establish the agreement was valid.
But the prospect of defending myself against hundreds of thousands of dollars in fabricated obligations was terrifying.
I turned to Olivia.
"How did Grant explain this?"
"He said you wanted to help him get started after the divorce."
I stared at her.
"He told you I was personally guaranteeing his new business?"
She nodded.
"He said it was part of an amicable financial arrangement."
I laughed once.
A short, humorless sound.
Grant had spent the final months of our marriage accusing me of destroying his future.
And apparently, while saying those things, he had been telling other people I was financing it.
Olivia looked ashamed.
"I'm sorry, Simone."
I studied her face.
Then I said something I hadn't expected to say.
"You're not the person who made those promises."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I wanted to believe he loved me."
"So did I."
We sat quietly for a moment.
Two women who had believed very different stories told by the same man.
Eventually, Olivia asked:
"What are you going to do?"
I closed the folder.
"I'm going to find out how much money he borrowed, how he obtained the documents, and whose lives he's put at risk."
She nodded.
"And then?"
"Then I'm going to make sure the truth reaches the people who need to hear it."
My phone vibrated.
A message from Helena.
Call me immediately. Maple Bridge Credit has contacted my office regarding the disputed guarantee.
I felt my chest tighten.
I stepped outside and called her.
Helena answered immediately.
"Simone, where are you?"
"Meeting Olivia. What's happening?"
"The lender has confirmed that Grant's company is in default."
I closed my eyes.
"How much?"
"The full outstanding obligation is substantial. We're still verifying the balance and the documentation."
"Can they come after me?"
"Not simply because your name appears on a disputed document. We've formally challenged the guarantee, but we need to deal with this carefully."
I leaned against the café wall.
Then Helena said something that made the cold November air feel even colder.
"Simone, there were witnesses to the supposed signing."
I went still.
"Witnesses?"
"One of them was Patricia Mercer."
"I know. I saw her name."
Helena paused.
"The lender says Patricia provided a written statement confirming that she personally watched you sign."
I stared at the traffic moving past the café.
Patricia hadn't merely witnessed a document bearing my name.
She had allegedly confirmed a meeting that had never happened.
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And if Helena was right, my former mother-in-law had done far more than spend my money.
She had helped build the lie that threatened everything I owned.
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