The Judge Asked Where My Husband Had Put The Money
Part 5 · 3 min read ·
Mara met me outside the courtroom with a folder under each arm.
“Answer the question you're asked,” she said. “If you don't know, say so.”
“What if I cry?”
“Then we wait.”
Through a tall window, I could see part of the courthouse lawn. Fort Wayne traffic moved around the square. People were buying coffee while I waited to explain why my husband had sold my work.
Della sat beside me on the hall bench.
“I brought mints,” she said.
“Will they help?”
“No. But they were in my purse.”
I took one.
Our case concerned the contracts, the diverted money, and the firm's records. Mara had asked for temporary protection while the full claims moved forward.
It was not a trial that would settle my whole life by lunch.
That helped me sit down.
Colin wore the tie I had bought him for our fifth anniversary. Avery sat behind him. Owen waited near the door with his own lawyer.
When I took the witness chair, Colin gave me a small, familiar smile.
Be good, it said.
Mara showed me the first master assignment.
“Who is named as owner?”
“Darcy Treadwell.”
“Was the firm formed when this was signed?”
“No.”
She moved through the later sessions. The names, dates, and master numbers matched the distributor's catalog list. The firm's sales license was attached.
“Did you authorize payments to Quay Light?”
“No.”
Colin's lawyer asked whether my husband had arranged recording dates and handled invoices.
“Yes,” I said.
“So he helped build this catalog.”
“He managed bookings. The firm was paid under its license.”
“You benefited from that work.”
“Yes.”
I did not need to make him useless to prove he had taken something.
The lawyer put the disputed assignment before me.
“Is that your signature?”
“It's an image of my signature from an inspection approval. I didn't sign this agreement.”
Mara submitted the contractor's original email and the examiner's preliminary report. The examiner had found matching image details, including the skipped ink and a faint mark from the inspection page.
The complete report would follow.
Then Owen testified.
He said Colin had given him the new payee details. He had entered them and carried printed statements to Avery.
“Why didn't you tell Mrs. Whitcomb?” Colin's lawyer asked.
Owen looked toward me.
“She uses Treadwell at work.”
“Answer the question.”
“Colin told me not to. I knew she hadn't been asked. I kept quiet because I wanted the training money.”
He said it without looking down.
Della explained the bank records. No invoice supported the $63,240. There was no signed agreement allowing Avery's company to keep my royalties.
Avery's lawyer called the money a fee still being documented.
The judge leaned forward.
“For work completed before payment?”
“That is our position.”
“Then preserve the records that show the work.”
The judge asked about the buyer's deposit next.
Colin called the $48,000 a manager's draw.
“Was it approved by both owners as required under your operating agreement?” the judge asked.
“We didn't always follow that process at home.”
“I'm asking about the company.”
“No.”
My hands lay flat in my lap. For years, that answer had taken hours to pull out of him. Here, the clerk simply recorded it.
After a recess, the judge entered a temporary order preserving $63,240 in Quay Light's account. The firm had to place the remaining $27,000 buyer deposit in counsel's trust account.
The order also protected access to firm records and barred disposal of listed shop assets while the case continued.
No one was declared guilty of a crime. No final damages were set. But the money could not slip away that afternoon.
Outside, Mara secured a signed interim agreement requiring Della's written review before either owner made further firm payments. Colin's lawyer advised him to sign.
He pressed so hard the pen left a dent.
“You'll spend everything fighting me,” he said in the hall.
“Then help lower the bill. Give us the complete records.”
He looked at Della.
“You put this in her head.”
“I put columns beside it,” she said.
I walked out into the cold without waiting for his answer.
That evening, I filed for divorce through a separate family lawyer. I listed the business dispute where the forms asked about pending cases. I did not let one case swallow the other.
Then I opened my work notebook and planned the next day's voicing.
At seven, Mara forwarded a new letter from Colin's lawyer. He would offer a settlement, but only if I gave up my master recordings before the cathedral's final inspection.