My Fake Husband Stole My Rent Chapter 2

Two patrol officers pushed through the murmuring crowd. "Who called it in?"

I pointed a stiff finger at Bradley. "Officers, I did. This man is impersonating my husband. He just defrauded my entire building out of three years' worth of rent."

The lead officer turned to Bradley, his hand resting casually on his belt. "Fraud? What's the dollar amount?"

Bradley let out a long, long-suffering sigh. He gave the cops a 'you-know-how-women-are' smile. "Officers, I'm so sorry. Please ignore my wife. She's just throwing a fit."

He tapped his temple. "She's pregnant. The hormones are making her crazy. She thinks me managing our finances is a federal crime."

The cop looked back at me, his eyes already glazing over with the assumption of a domestic squabble. "What's going on here, ma'am?"

Before I could get a word out, Bradley pulled a manila envelope from his bag and slid out two official-looking documents.

"Here. These are the certified copies of our marriage license." He handed them over. "I'm her legal husband. I helped her collect rent on a property she owns. How is that a crime?"

I snatched one of the papers from his hand. Staring back at me was a photo of Bradley and me, side-by-side. My full name, my social security number, my date of birth. It was flawless.

"This is forged!" My voice cracked with disbelief. "I have never been married in my life!"

I pointed at the photo. "Officers, that is the ID photo I took when I signed up for my gym membership. He photoshopped us together!"

The officer took the license back and handed it to his partner to run through dispatch.

Bradley's mother threw herself forward, grabbing the officer's sleeve, crocodile tears streaming down her face. "Officers, please help us! This woman is a monster! She took fifty thousand dollars of our hard-earned savings, and now that the money's gone, she wants to kick us out on the street!"

I was vibrating with rage. "I never took your money! I am not pregnant with your child! This is a coordinated grift!"

Gary stepped out from the crowd of tenants. "Officers, I can vouch for him. Bradley is definitely her husband."

He gestured to the building. "When he came by last month, he showed us their text messages. She was calling him 'hubby,' sending heart emojis, telling him to handle the rent because she was too tired."

My eyes widened in sheer horror. "Gary, what the hell are you talking about?! I have never texted him anything like that!"

Gary rolled his eyes. "Come on, Julia. Give it a rest. Bradley gave us two months free and a twenty percent discount. Whatever marital issues you guys are having, leave working-class people out of it. We paid. We have the receipts. We aren't paying you twice."

A chorus of agreement rose from the crowd.

"Yeah, Bradley even helped me carry my groceries up the stairs last week. He's a good guy."

"You're out of your mind, lady. You get married and still act like a single girl trying to get attention."

"Don't listen to her, officers. She's just spiteful."

Bradley tilted his chin up, looking at me with sickening faux-affection. "See, babe? Everyone knows the truth. Just stop fighting it. Come home. Mom made that chicken stew you love so much."

He reached out to grab my arm. I recoiled like he was made of acid. "Do not touch me! Officers, run my name through the state database! I am legally single. Run it!"

The second officer, who had been on his radio, stepped forward. He looked at me, his expression hardening. "Ma'am, dispatch just ran your details through the state registry."

He sighed. "The system says your marital status is married. And your listed spouse... is Bradley."

The ground dropped out from beneath my feet. "No. That's impossible. That is physically impossible."

My breath came short and shallow. "I have never set foot inside a courthouse for a marriage license."

Bradley stepped closer. "Julia, is the pregnancy fog really this bad? We went down to City Hall last month. You literally posted it on Instagram. You're trying to deny it now?"

Before I could process that lie, Barbara reached into her oversized purse, pulled out a piece of black lace lingerie, and tossed it at the officers' feet.

"Look!" she shrieked. "Look at this! This is the underwear she wore yesterday! If we don't live in the same house, how did I get her dirty laundry?!"

She spat on the ground. "She's a cheap whore trying to steal my son's money to fund her little boy toys!"