The server quietly explained that Phaedra had requested one combined check, assuring staff I had agreed to pay. I settled the bill, kept the receipt, and left a generous tip. Outside, I remembered documents Marshall, my late husband’s longtime banking adviser, had shown me that morning.
Those papers concerned a credit line connected to Donovan’s home. Years earlier, I had guaranteed a limited loan, but the latest modification listed me as a joint borrower. My signature appeared beneath an increased limit of $385,000. I had never approved that change, and suddenly dinner seemed unimportant.
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