“She never used that money for herself.”
“No, ma’am. She used it to save her husband’s family.”
“Oh my God…”
“There’s more.”
“More?”
Gerald placed a series of printed photographs in front of me. They were photos of Robert at restaurants, at bars, with a young woman who was not Brenda.
“Robert has been having an extramarital affair for two years. This woman’s name is Valerie. She’s 26. She works as a public relations specialist. He pays for an apartment for her in Beverly Hills. The apartment is in her name, but he covers the rent. Two thousand dollars a month.”
Every word was a hammer blow.
“Does Brenda know?”
“I don’t know. But it’s possible.”
“How can he pay for an apartment if he’s bankrupt, with maxed-out credit cards?”
“Probably with the money Brenda transfers. It’s a vicious cycle. She gives him money to save the company. He uses it to keep his mistress.”
I closed my eyes. I felt nauseous. My daughter, my girl, working as a maid in that house, giving every cent I sent her, sacrificing herself for a man who was cheating on her, for a family that despised her, and everything was a lie. The wealth, the success, the thriving company, the respectable family. It was all a sham.
“What else do you need to know?” Gerald asked.
“I want the names of all the creditors. I want to know exactly how much they owe and to whom. I want to know when each deadline is. I want to know everything.”
“May I ask why?”
I looked him directly in the eye.
“Because I’m going to buy those debts. All of them.”
Gerald looked at me, surprised.
“Are you sure? That’s more than three million dollars in total.”
“I have the money. I’ve been working in New York for eight years, saving every penny, investing. I have enough.”
“But Mrs. Miller, if you buy the debts, if—”
“If I buy the debts, I become the creditor, and I can decide what to do with those properties.”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. Do it. Contact all the creditors. Tell them there’s a buyer willing to pay in cash, and I want everything done in silence. No one can know who is behind this. No one.”
Gerald nodded slowly.
“You’ll need lawyers. This is complex.”
“Get me the best ones. I don’t care about the cost.”
“Understood. How long will it take?”
“If we move quickly, a month, maybe less.”
“You have three weeks.”
“Ma’am, three weeks is—”
“Three weeks, Gerald. My daughter has been suffering in that house for eight years. I can’t leave her there a day longer than necessary.”
He stood up and extended his hand.
