Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN IN APARTMENT 8C
Camille lived in apartment 8C.
I knew because I eventually went there.
Not to confront her.
To help carry boxes.
That fact would have sounded impossible one month earlier.
But Thaddius stopped paying the apartment rent after his accounts were frozen, and Camille could not afford $2,850 alone while also rebuilding the twenty thousand dollars he borrowed.
She had decided to move to a smaller apartment closer to her daughter’s school.
When she texted:
I found some of his things. Your lawyer may want them.
I went with Sarah.
Camille opened the door wearing jeans and a Northwestern sweatshirt.
No makeup.
No drama.
“Come in.”
The apartment looked like a life interrupted.
Two mugs in the sink.
A photograph of Camille and Zoe.
A men’s coat on a hook.
Thaddius’s coat.
My stomach tightened.
Not because I wanted him.
Because objects make betrayal physical.
He had hung his coat here while I paid his car insurance.
Camille noticed my face.
“I can put everything in the hallway.”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“It’s fine.”
Not fine.
Manageable.
She had packed his belongings into three boxes.
Shoes.
Gym clothes.
A watch.
Toiletries.
One framed photograph.
Thaddius and Camille at a winery.
His arm around her.
He looked happy.
I hated that the photograph hurt.
Camille touched it.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“He said you hated physical affection.”
I laughed softly.
“What else?”
She looked embarrassed.
“That you slept separately.”
True for the last year.
“That you stayed married because you wanted the house.”
False.
“That you refused counseling.”
False.
“That you didn’t want children.”
I went still.
“What?”
Camille’s face changed.
“He said you never wanted children.”
That one hit harder than expected.
Because I had wanted them.
Not desperately.
But I had imagined a child once.
Then, after Thaddius lost his job and our finances became increasingly one-sided, I postponed.
I told him:
Not until we are stable.
He translated that for Camille as:
Naomi never wanted children.
Of course.
Every boundary became evidence of my deficiency.
“He told me he wanted a family,” Camille whispered.
I looked at her daughter’s photograph.
“And you already had one.”
“Yes.”
“He was good with Zoe.”
That surprised me.
“Was he?”
“He helped with homework.”
“Went to soccer.”
“Brought dinner.”
I felt anger.
Not at Camille.
At the fact that Thaddius could perform care somewhere else while treating every domestic responsibility at home like oppression.
Then Camille said:
“He borrowed from her college account.”
I stared.
“What?”
Her eyes filled.
“The twenty thousand.”
“You said it was your divorce settlement.”
“Most was.”
She swallowed.
“Six thousand came from Zoe’s education fund.”
I sat.
That was enough.
No one should lose a child’s college money because a charming adult needed to appear successful.
“Did he know?”
“Yes.”
“He knew exactly where it came from.”
“Yes.”
My anger sharpened into something clean.
Camille continued.
“He promised to put it back after a deal closed.”
Vale meeting.
Grayson.
Always the next thing.
Always almost saved.
Sarah asked to review the belongings.
Inside one box we found a tablet.
Thaddius’s.
Camille had never used it.
Police had seized his main phone and laptop but apparently not this device because it lived at the secret apartment nobody initially knew existed.
We did not open it ourselves.
Sarah called investigators.
Search warrant followed.
The tablet became catastrophic.
Messages with Trent.
Bernard.
Multiple betting accounts.
Loan documents.
And voice memos.
Thaddius apparently liked recording ideas.
One memo from six months earlier:
If Naomi keeps pushing on expenses, move everything to separate account before bonus season.
Another:
Camille needs to stop asking about divorce timeline.
Then:
Mom thinks consulting is making eighty.
Keep deposits clean.
And:
If Bennett gets promoted, increase monthly household draw.
Bennett.
My maiden name.
He used it privately when talking about my career.
As though I were a revenue source.
Then investigators found a spreadsheet.
HOUSEHOLD RESOURCE PLAN
My salary.
Expected bonus.
Mortgage equity.
Retirement account.
Dorothia’s matching funds.
Potential future inheritance from my aunt.
I stared at that line.
He had projected money I did not even have yet.
Aunt Lydia was seventy-four and perfectly alive.
Thaddius had included her potential estate in his plan.
Sarah whispered:
“He saw your entire future as balance-sheet support.”
Yes.
That was exactly it.
Camille sat across from me.
“Was he ever nice to you?”
The question surprised me.
“Yes.”
I answered.
“Very.”
At first.
He made breakfast.
Left notes.
Danced with me in the kitchen.
He knew how I took coffee.
He called my mother every Sunday when she was ill.
That was important.
Abusers are rarely terrible every second.
If they were, leaving would be easier.
“He made me feel chosen.”
Camille nodded.
“Me too.”
We sat in the strange intimacy of two women who had been given similar versions of the same man.
Then Zoe came home.
Thirteen.
Tall.
Curly hair.
She saw me and stopped.
Camille had told her.
“Hi.”
I smiled.
“Hi.”
Zoe looked embarrassed.
Then angry.
“I hate him.”
Camille said:
“Zoe.”
“What?”
“He stole my money.”
I looked at the girl.
“He borrowed money your mom gave him.”
“No.”
Zoe shook her head.
“He knew it was mine.”
She stared at me.
“Did he steal from you too?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“More.”
Zoe’s eyes filled.
“Then why isn’t he in jail?”
Fair question.
“Cases take time.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“Are you going to forgive him?”
“No.”
Immediate.
Camille looked at me.
Zoe looked relieved.
Interesting.
Children sometimes need adults to prove consequences exist.
I added:
“Forgiveness and access are different.”
Zoe frowned.
“Meaning?”
“I might stop being angry someday.”
A pause.
“That doesn’t mean I let him back into my house.”
She nodded slowly.
“Good.”
Maybe I was explaining it to myself.
The Mercer family meeting happened the next day.
Bernard denied knowing Grayson was fraudulent.
Trent blamed market conditions.
Dorothia presented bank records.
I presented nothing personally.
I did not need to perform.
The numbers did.
Evelyn, Thaddius’s sister, began crying when she realized the fifteen thousand she lent him for “tax debt” had gone into crypto.
Another cousin had lost eight thousand.
Bernard had profited.
That caused explosion.
“You got paid?”
Evelyn demanded.
Bernard stood.
“I invested earlier.”
“With our money?”
“No.”
“Then why did you keep telling us to trust Trent?”
“Because I did.”
“You were getting advisory fees!”
His face hardened.
“Perfectly legitimate.”
“For what advice?”
Silence.
Dorothia looked at him.
“I spent years thinking Naomi looked down on Thaddius because he earned less.”
She shook her head.
“He earned nothing.”
No one spoke.
“She carried him.”
Another.
“And I criticized how she carried him.”
My eyes filled.
Bernard turned toward me.
“You are enjoying this.”
I almost laughed.
“No.”
“What do you want?”
“For?”
“This family.”
I stared at him.
“Nothing.”
That scared them more than revenge.
“I don’t want control.”
“I don’t want apologies at dinner.”
“I don’t want anyone choosing sides.”
I looked around.
“I want my money back where legally possible.”
“I want my name removed from fraudulent debt.”
“And I want every person here to stop calling what Thaddius did a mistake.”
Silence.
“He made choices.”
Then:
“So did the people who kept handing him money after warning signs.”
Dorothia closed her eyes.
Bernard’s face hardened.
“You think you’re innocent?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
“I participated too.”
I paid.
Covered.
Explained.
Stayed.
“Difference is I’m done.”
That ended the meeting.
Two weeks later, Trent was arrested on federal wire-fraud charges related to Grayson Digital.
Bernard received a grand-jury subpoena.
Thaddius faced expanded investigation for bank fraud and identity theft.
And Camille’s daughter got her six thousand dollars back.
Not from Thaddius.
Not yet.
I repaid the education account anonymously through Sarah.
Then Camille figured it out.
She called.
“You should not have done that.”
“I know.”
“I will repay you.”
“No.”
“Naomi.”
I thought about my habit.
Fixing.
Danger.
“Okay.”
I corrected.
“You can repay me whenever it does not hurt you or Zoe.”
Camille went quiet.
“Better.”
“Yes.”
May you like
Learning.
Even generosity needed boundaries.
