Chapter 5 Remy #2
The letter went on to explain how to claim the policy and the documents I would need to submit before receiving a payout.
At first, I thought it might be a sick joke, but after researching the company, I realized they were legitimate.
My name had never been Remy Weston, and if my crazy ass husband caught wind of anyone calling me that, he’d blow up their building and go dig up Karlos and kill him again.
I wasn’t Karlos’s spouse, or even his next of kin; I wanted nothing to do with that man.
I started to discard the letter, but the realization hit me again. Holding a law degree, I knew that they had to have had a reason to believe my name was Remy Weston, and that concerned me more than the letter itself.
With shaky hands, I picked up the phone and dialed the toll-free number.
“Thank you for calling Afterlife Insurance. My name is Joy agent number 0109. How may I assist you?” She said into the phone.
“Good morning, I received a letter from you all this morning. I was calling to check the validity of it and also ask a couple of questions.” I responded, with my heart now resting comfortably in my ass.
“Sure, before we get started, can I have your policy number, name, and date of birth, please?”
“Policy number 2038748, Remy Richardson, March 19, 1990,” I said as I tapped my pen on the desk.
The line went silent before she finally came back to the phone.
“I’m sorry, I cannot find a policy with that information.” She apologized. I cringed as soon as I realized I had to say it.
“My apologies, try Remy Weston. W-e-s-t-o-n.”
“Got it, I’ve found a policy with that name. Are you calling regarding the unclaimed funds notification? Are you ready to process your claim?” she asked, making me feel even worse.
“Actually, no. Is there any way I could get the complete contract that was used to open the policy?” I shot back.
“Sure, we can mail you everything except the deceased’s medical records. Is this fine?”
“Can you email it instead?” I asked. The mail was going to take way too long to get the answers I needed right now.
“Emailing isn’t the most secure option. But if you could answer some security questions about yourself and your spouse, I could release them via email,” She offered.
She asked me a series of questions that I struggled to remember the answers to. It had been years, nine to be exact, and I thought I had done a successful job at scrubbing Karlos from my memory.
But finally, I guess I had answered enough questions for her to feel comfortable releasing the information to me.
“All set, Mrs. Weston. You should receive that information shortly. I am deeply sorry for your loss, but always remember, Afterlife has got you covered during this difficult time.” She said.
“Thank you,” I replied as I hung up the phone and waited for the email to come through impatiently. I must have refreshed my inbox sixty times in two minutes, but finally the documents appeared.
I held my breath as I looked over them. It was a fifty-million-dollar policy, naming me as the beneficiary, taken out a couple of months after I moved into the house.
I was listed on the application as his wife.
I read every single page and every single document in awe.
Then I made it to the final page, and I had to literally get my garbage can and throw up in it.
The last page was a marriage certificate, dated 30 days after I moved into the house.
I couldn’t think straight. But I hurried to the Louisiana Clerk of Courts.
I searched his name. My worst fears were confirmed when I saw that same marriage document filed.
I knew that Karlos was grimy, but I didn’t think that he would stoop to the level of forging marriage documents.
But then again, that would be giving his psychotic ass too much credit.
This is exactly the type of thing that he would do.
I held my head, and I wondered what the reason for faking documents was.
Then I picked up the phone and called the insurance company again.
I spoke to a different agent, but this time, I had a different question.
I needed to know if he had a policy on me.
It was the only angle that I could think of.
But after she searched both Remy Cross and Weston, the only thing she could find was me listed on his policy.
I hung up with more answers than I started with. If he wasn’t trying to kill me and collect, then why the hell did he fake a marriage?
“Mrs. Rich, the CEO from one of the organizations that donated, wants to meet with you if you have a second.” My assistant came across my intercom. I took a swig of water and then looked at the date.
“I’m sorry, it’s a really bad time. Please let the donor know that I sincerely appreciate them, and if they would like to meet, you can schedule a meeting for some time in the coming weeks.
” I responded to her. Today was supposed to be about the women of my foundation, and my mood had been completely ruined.
All I could do was think about my husband.
I didn’t like holding things back from him, but when it came down to his family, Zo had the tendency to just react.
We’re talking about the same man who killed two cops, who he said was tailing him.
After being arrested and on the news day and night for six days straight, when he got out, the first thing he said was, “I bet they won’t tail nobody else.
” My husband is the calmest, crashout, and I needed to figure this out before I got him in the middle of it.
I hated to hide it, but a lot was at stake here.
I read the letter again, and the instructions said to provide them with a death certificate before I could claim the money.
I didn’t want Karlos’ money in life or death, but I needed to get my hands on that death certificate.
Death was the only thing that I knew could separate us legally.
Because if not, my marriage to my own husband was illegitimate.
I called the Louisiana Office of Vital Statistics and spoke with someone. I asked her whether a death certificate was on file before I requested one. I gave her his name and date of birth, and she told me that there was nothing on file, but that I could still send a formal request to be sure.
How the hell could this happen? Nobody cared enough to have his death legally recorded after all this time?
Not even his mother or his father? But then again, I couldn’t blame them.
When Karlos’ father got sick, and he inherited the organization, he did his parents the dirtiest. I questioned him all the time about why he treated them that way, and he always told me to mind my business.
One time, he finally slipped and told me that his father had never done anything for him but gotten sick, and he would see his father in hell, and even then, he wouldn’t say hi.
It was something so twisted about all of this, and my family was thrown right into the middle of it all these years later.
I took out the trash bag in my office, then went into my purse and grabbed some mouthwash I kept there for when my husband came by for lunch.
I walked into the bathroom and swished my mouth to get the aftertaste of vomit out, and tried to look in the mirror and get myself together.
I had been putting this event together for the last few months, and it was going to be a success.
I had the news involved, and Kennedy, Ivy, and Storm had just texted in our group message to let me know they were on the way to support me, and I couldn’t drop the ball.
For now, I would put this letter on the back burner and make the women who are depending on me proud. But in the back of my mind, I was sick at just the thought of being attached to a man like Karlos. And I was determined to do whatever it took to cut ties once and for all.