For the next week, I played along. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. Adrian noticed every shift in my mood, every pause before an answer, every time I reached for my phone and stopped. So I smiled more. I thanked him for cooking. I let him discuss stroller brands and school districts and the family future he had never actually meant to build. Meanwhile, Claire worked with the lawyer to freeze any movement on my remaining separate assets, and Dr. Shah documented everything she could legally document. Rebecca provided copies of old emails, timelines, and settlement records that linked Adrian to the previous identity without leaving room for him to shrug it all off as a coincidence.
Then Adrian presented me with his next move.
One evening, he came home carrying a folder and a bottle of sparkling apple cider, grinning like a man with wonderful news. He said he had arranged a meeting with my late father’s estate adviser to “simplify things before the baby comes.” He spoke gently, rationally, lovingly. The trust could be streamlined. Tax exposure could be reduced. If we signed now, he said, there would be less stress later. He even framed it as a gift to me. I looked at the folder in his hands and saw the trap so clearly, I nearly laughed. Instead, I told him it sounded smart.
