The New Husband(111)

Nina tried to wrap her mind around it. Two years. He’d been kept in that horrible space for almost two years. No doubt, Glen was struggling to grasp it as well.

“He drugged me. That’s why I did … with Teresa … why it happened. I wasn’t in my right mind.” Glen ran his tongue across his chapped, dry lips. “We didn’t have an affair. I swear to you. I know you thought that we did, and it tore me up inside. But it was only once, and Simon orchestrated it all.”

Nina nodded. “I had pictures, you know—including one of you giving Teresa a big kiss. It was quite believable.”

“Simon sent them to you. Put a name to the face to make it more credible when he found out Teresa had left the area, probably for good. He wanted you to think I was with her so you could move on from me.”

“Well, it worked. We’ll talk about it, too, all our regrets—later though, after you rest and get your strength back.”

“Regrets,” Glen muttered under his breath, his gaze drifting to another time and place. When he looked up at Nina, he was present again. “I thought a lot about those in the box. But I want you to know why I was in Carson. Why I lost my job at the bank. It’s important you know.”

Nina glanced at the bandage covering the cut to her palm from the glass shard she had turned into a weapon. She could still hear the skin rip as she pulled the makeshift dagger across Simon’s throat. It was as if she could feel his warm blood on her skin.

“Let’s get you healthy. Focus only on that for now. Then you can tell me your story. And I’ll tell you mine.”





CHAPTER 63


A week later, Nina showed up at the hospital with a bottle of whiskey. Truth serum. Glen had finished his daily physical therapy session, but instead of going back to his bed, he and Nina found an empty conference room where they could talk and drink.

It was time.

They sat next to each other on a hard-cushioned couch. Glen looked much better with each day. His color had returned; his cuts and abrasions were well on the way to being completely healed. His doctors were impressed with his progress, and the nurses and PT therapists managing the lion’s share of his care and rehabilitation were equally encouraged.

Nina and the kids had come to see Glen every day, but he had requested this private session with his wife. He was tired, beaten, battered, but he had to cleanse himself. He had to purify.

They both did.

“I like your hair,” Glen said.

Nina had cut it short, modern and stylish.

“Thank you,” she said. “I couldn’t stand it the way it was one second longer. Bad memories.”

They shared a quiet laugh. Nina poured two fingers of whiskey for each of them.

“Am I even allowed to drink?” Glen said slyly, sneaking glances like he was getting away with something.

“Not long ago this would have been the only medicine you’d have been given. So drink up.”

“Don’t tell the nurses,” Glen said. “They’re very protective of me.”

That was a bit of an understatement. Those nurses were hawkish at holding the media at bay. The story of a man imprisoned in a soundproof box wasn’t dying down anytime soon.

“Cheers,” Nina said, lifting her glass.

They both kicked back the first drink, and Nina poured them another. Truth serum. She’d tell Glen everything, but first, Carson.

It all started with the bank. If Nina hadn’t been left in dire financial straits, Simon’s efforts might not have worked so effectively. Instead, he had taken advantage of a perfect storm, a confluence of events that had nearly served his purpose. So now it was a moment of reckoning. Why had Glen lied to her for all those years?

“I lost my job.”

Nina appeared nonplussed. “So you got fired. Why? And why not just come to me?”

“No—no,” Glen said, sounding impassioned, a man with pride still in him. “I didn’t get fired for something I did wrong. I got fired because I was suspicious that my bank was acting unethically. I tried to report it, but the CEO wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say. I guess he preferred the profits.”

Nina became more intrigued. “Unethical, how?”

“Branch managers at my bank were opening hundreds of unauthorized accounts, issuing unauthorized credit cards to our customers so they could charge all sorts of fees. The scheme was netting big dollars.”

“Just like Wells Fargo,” said Nina.

“Screwing customers out of their hard-earned money isn’t the exclusive privilege of the big banks.”

“So they fired you for trying to blow the whistle?”

“I wasn’t just fired,” Glen said, sucking down the whiskey like water. His lips were moving more freely with each sip.

“Go on,” Nina said.

“Before they got rid of me, senior management—and I’m pretty sure it was at the CEO’s direction—trashed me in my Form U5.”

Nina looked perplexed. “Form U5?”

“It’s like a report card for people who work in financial services—or at least, anyone who works as an investment advisor. I had one, even though I didn’t really need it for my job. If you have one, a hiring manager looks at your U5 more than your résumé. Those comments in my U5 immediately turned me into poisoned goods. The system works well if a worker takes advantage of a customer, but if an employer unfairly defames an employee, it’s impossible to get it corrected, and it means the end of your career. There is no recourse. No organization you can turn to for help. One black mark on the U5 and you’ll never get a job in finance again.”