I put the pen down and asked what he’d done that October, and his face changed before he answered. He said it was nothing important, just a transfer between accounts we’d always had. I asked which accounts, and he started talking about how tired he was of being questioned. His attorney didn’t say a word, but she stopped looking at him and started looking at the paperwork.
I pointed to the date and reminded him that he’d told me we’d been struggling financially that month. He’d cried in our bedroom and said he was terrified we wouldn’t have enough for retirement. The transfer was for $86,000, and the receiving account wasn’t listed anywhere in the financial disclosure he’d given my attorney. He finally admitted it was an investment account he’d opened “for emergencies.”
My attorney asked the account number, and he refused to give it to her. That was when she asked the court to order the bank records. Two weeks later, the records arrived. The $86,000 hadn’t gone into an investment account at all. It had gone to a property company registered to someone with the same last name as the woman he’d told me was “just a coworker.”
