Chapter 2 - The Woman in White
The blonde woman’s name was Olivia Dane.
Megan first met her at the St. Augustine winter benefit.
Olivia wore a white evening dress and worked as the hospital’s executive director of strategic partnerships. She was intelligent, polished and nearly fifteen years younger than Jack.
When Jack introduced them, his hand remained on Olivia’s back a second too long.
“Dr. Carter has told me so much about you,” Olivia said.
“That’s interesting,” Megan replied. “He’s never mentioned you.”
Jack laughed loudly.
“Olivia manages half the new programs at St. Augustine. I assumed you two had already met.”
They had not.
Throughout dinner, Megan watched them avoid looking at each other. Their caution felt more intimate than open flirtation would have.
Later, while Jack spoke with donors, Olivia approached Megan near the silent auction tables.
“Your foundation has changed many lives,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“Jack is proud of what you’ve built together.”
Megan noticed Olivia called him Jack, not Dr. Carter.
“Did he tell you we built it together?”
Olivia’s smile faltered.
Before she could answer, Jack appeared and interrupted them.
On the drive home, Megan asked him directly.
“Are you sleeping with Olivia?”
Jack’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“What kind of question is that?”
“One that requires either yes or no.”
“No.”
He did not hesitate. That was what frightened her.
A surprised innocent person might have laughed or demanded to know why she suspected such a thing. Jack responded like someone who had practiced.
“You’ve become suspicious of everything,” he continued. “My work. My phone. My colleagues. Maybe you need something of your own to focus on.”
Megan turned toward the window.
The foundation was her work. Their children were her focus. Jack knew that.
By the time they reached home, he had transformed himself into the wounded husband.
“I spend my life trying to keep people alive, and you accuse me of betraying you.”
Megan apologized.
Not because she believed him, but because Ethan was waiting in the hallway and could hear them.
The following morning, she found a hotel receipt inside Jack’s coat pocket.
Two guests. One suite. Austin.
The date matched a conference Jack had claimed he attended alone.
Instead of confronting him again, Megan photographed the receipt and returned it exactly where she had found it.
Then she called Gerald Bennett.
Gerald had been her father’s attorney and closest friend. After Richard Hale died, Gerald had helped Megan organize the trust, foundation and voting shares he had left her.
“I need you to investigate something,” Megan said.
“Business or personal?”
“Both.”
She sent him the questionable transfer and the hotel receipt.
Gerald called her back an hour later.
“Your father added a protective clause to the foundation agreement after you married Jack.”
“What kind of clause?”
“If any trustee uses charitable assets for undisclosed personal benefit, their authority can be suspended immediately after independent verification.”
“Jack is only an advisory trustee.”
“He was. Three years ago, documents were filed expanding his authority.”
Megan sat upright.
“I never approved that.”
“The authorization carries your signature.”
The same signature that had appeared on the transfer.
Gerald’s voice became grave.
“Megan, do not confront him again. Not until we understand how far this goes.”
That evening, Jack came home carrying flowers.
May you like
Megan smiled, accepted them and kissed his cheek.
Then she began quietly investigating her own husband.
