I Took Off The Dress And Took Back My Life Chapter 03
“What difference? If that six million wasn’t for some Porsche settlement, then you used my down payment to pay off some unknown debt for Scarlett.”
Julian remained silent.
I took a deep breath. “Forget it, I won’t argue with you about the money. But when are you paying me back the $500,000 I put down?”
“Audrey, can you not always bring up money? I said I’ll pay it back—”
“When?”
“…Wait until the house is unmortgaged.”
“You mortgaged it for six million; how are you going to unmortgage it?”
He was silent.
I hung up and went to the bank.
The loan for the wedding house was signed jointly, but only his signature was on the mortgage deed. By regulation, a joint property mortgage requires both parties to be present.
The account manager pulled the file, flipped through a few pages, and frowned slightly.
“Ms. Vance, this mortgage deed includes a power of attorney. It has your signature, authorizing Mr. Julian Sterling to handle all matters regarding the mortgage of this property.”
The photocopy was pushed toward me.
I saw the name “Audrey Vance” on that power of attorney. The handwriting was very similar, but the strokes were off—I have a habit of flicking the last stroke of ‘Audrey’ upward, but this signature pressed downward.
“That’s not my signature.”
The manager’s expression changed subtly. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I never signed this power of attorney, nor did I authorize anyone to handle a mortgage.”
She closed the folder. “This involves forgery. You can report this to the authorities—”
“I understand.”
Walking out of the bank, I crouched by the curb for three minutes. It wasn’t sadness; it was the absurdity of it all.
Knowing him for five years, I thought the biggest issue was just that he was too soft-hearted. I never imagined he’d be soft-hearted enough to forge my signature for Scarlett and mortgage half of my property.
And then have the nerve to tell me “not to always bring up money.”
At three in the afternoon, Jordan sent a link.
It was Scarlett’s social media account. She had posted a short video, her makeup perfect, eyes red as she spoke to the camera:
“Thank you to that anonymous friend who helped me and my brother… I know not everyone understands, and some people say very hurtful things behind my back… but I believe that sincerity is met with sincerity, and good things happen to good people.”
The comment section was a united front for her—”Stay strong, Scarlett!” “Who doesn’t understand you? That’s too much!” “Some people are just petty and don’t understand your pain.”
I scrolled through my messages; a dozen unread ones were from mutual friends of Julian and me.
“Audrey, Julian said you’re breaking up over a house? Is it really worth it?”
“Audrey, are you misunderstanding something? Scarlett is really in a tough spot.”
“Hey, Julian asked me to talk to you. He’s willing to sign a promissory note; stop making a scene.”
I didn’t reply to any of them. As I was exiting the app, Julian called.
“Audrey, did you go to the bank?”
Word traveled fast; likely the manager, wanting to avoid trouble, had notified him immediately.
“Yes.”
“You want to put me in jail? You’re ruthless.”
“You forged my signature to mortgage my property. Who’s more ruthless?”
“I was helping Scarlett—”
“Is breaking the law the way you help Scarlett?”
He went quiet. After a moment, he lowered his voice, squeezing out a tone of tenderness.
“Audrey, I admit my method was wrong. But things are already like this; making a mess of it won’t help anyone. Give me some time—”
“I’ll give you time as soon as you pay back my $500,000.”
He was silent again.
Then he said something nonsensical: “Audrey, promise me, don’t go to your loft yet.”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask. Just wait until I’ve handled it.”
I hung up, a chill in my heart. I grabbed a cab and went straight to the loft.
Twenty minutes later, I stood at the door and put the key in—it wouldn’t go in.
The lock had been changed.
I tried three times. Then I knocked.
A voice came from inside, light and airy through the security door.
“Who is it?”
It was very familiar.
Scarlett.
She was in my loft, asking me through my own door who I was.
“Open the door,” I said.
Silence for two seconds. Then Scarlett’s voice rang out again, with a perfectly measured sweetness—
“Oh, Audrey… Julian gave me a spare key and said I could stay here for a few days. I really didn’t want to trouble you.”
