Previously…
– While Jason recovered from the burns he suffered after the earthquake, Sabrina was racked with guilt at the prospect that she might have caused his accident — not realizing that Sophie’s alter was actually trying to frame her.
– Rosie was suspicious about Finn’s connection to Loretta Ragan.
– Spencer asked Sarah to investigate the payments that Loretta allegedly made to Sonja.

Natalie Bishop steps into the conference room in her first ex-husband‘s law offices, expecting to find two attorneys, a stack of paperwork, and her soon-to-be second ex-husband. Instead, Spencer Ragan sits alone at the far end of the table, a thin folder in front of him.

She stops just inside the doorway. “Where is Elly? And my attorney?”

“Good morning to you, too,” he replies. “Sit down, Natalie.”

“I’m not sitting down until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Our mediation was postponed. I thought we could use the time to have a conversation without two lawyers charging us by the minute.”

“You thought. I’m a part of this, too, Spencer. And I thought today was just a formality–“

“I asked Elly to give us a little alone time. And I advised your attorney that it would be best for us to discuss this alone, as well.”

Natalie studies him, looking for the catch. She notices the folder. “And what’s that?”

“Something I think we need to discuss.”

“Then you can discuss it with my attorney.” She turns to leave.

“It’s about Sonja.”

Natalie stops in her tracks. For the briefest moment, the name seems to drain the color from her face. Then she turns back, her expression carefully composed.

“What about her?”

“I think you know.”

“I know she’s in prison awaiting sentencing,” Natalie says, though her insides are trembling. “I know she lied to you, she lied to the police, and she killed Loretta. I’m not sure what else there is to discuss.”

Spencer drums his fingers against the edge of the table. “You forgot the part where she was my nurse. And the part where somebody paid her to keep certain information from me.”

Natalie folds her arms. “You told me Loretta was responsible for that.”

“That’s what Sonja told me, too.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

Spencer opens the folder. He removes several sheets of paper and places them on the table, turning them toward her.

“Because Sonja wasn’t telling me the whole truth,” he says.

Despite herself, Natalie takes a few steps forward and then looks down. The records show a series of transfers. Dates. Amounts. A receiving account. The name attached to the originating account is unmistakable.

Her name.

For several seconds, she doesn’t move. Then she picks up the first page, as if a closer look might change what it says.

“Where did you get these?” she demands.

Spencer glares up at her. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters. You can’t just walk in here with a handful of papers and expect me to accept them as evidence of anything.”

“I’m not asking a court to accept them,” he counters. “I’m asking you to explain them.”

“There’s nothing to explain.”

“You transferred money to an intermediary account that then transferred it to Sonja. More than once. While she was taking care of me. That was before you even knew Sonja.”

“I didn’t–” She stops herself. Spencer watches her closely.

“You didn’t what?”

Natalie sets the pages down. Her eyes move over the figures again, searching for some detail she can use.

“This doesn’t prove what you think it proves,” she says defiantly.

“Then tell me what it proves.”

She looks at him, but no answer comes. Spencer gathers the papers into a neat stack and returns them to the folder.

“That’s what I thought,” he says.

—–

“I was surprised to get your call,” Alex Marshall says as he lets Rosie Jimenez into the yellow bungalow where he lives with his husband and their son. “And I’ve got to say, I’m a little disappointed that you didn’t bring Dexter with you.”

Rosie grins. “I’m sure you remember how much stuff is required to take a baby anywhere. My mother was happy to stay with him while I came over.”

As Alex leads her into the living room, the two make small talk about the first month of Dexter’s life and the intricacies of living with a newborn. They settle across from each other on the matching loveseats.

“So,” Alex says when there is a lull in the conversation. “You said this was important.”

“It is. I just don’t know how much you know.”

“About what?”

“Finn Campbell.”

Alex leans against the back of the loveseat and clasps his hands over the knee of his jeans. “That’s a pretty broad subject.”

“You know, I had my suspicions about him working his way into Objection, and whatever he and Gia Vincent were doing,” she explains. “I don’t think his interest in the company was ever as innocent as he wanted everyone to believe. And there was some connection to Loretta Ragan. Why else would he have been arguing with her when she died?”

“You think Finn was working with Loretta to bring down Objection?”

Rosie nods. “You put that together quickly.”

“It’s the writer in me,” Alex says with a smile. “Always trying to put pieces together.”

“Well, I think it’s possible. I was pursuing it as a lead before Sonja confessed to killing Loretta.”

Alex studies her for a moment.

“Rosie, Loretta’s dead. Whatever Finn’s connection to her was, I don’t know that we’re going to get any answers by going over every conversation he ever had with her.”

“Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean we should stop asking questions.”

“And what questions do you have?”

Rosie hesitates. She knows how this sounds. She also knows why she can’t let it go.

“How has Finn been affording to live?”

Alex frowns.

“What?”

“He’s been out of work for a long time,” she says.

“He actually just got some job recently. He asked Trevor for a recommendation.”

“That’s good. But that was a long stretch without income. Did you run a credit check when he moved in?”

“I don’t remember every detail of the application,” Alex explains, “but I know we did, yeah.”

“And there weren’t any concerns?”

“Not that I recall. Why?”

“Because I’m trying to understand his life a little more. Even when he was at Objection, he was a receptionist and an executive assistant. Not exactly lucrative jobs.”

Alex’s expression tightens. Rosie notices.

“Look, I know this isn’t really my business,” she continues. “But for all the bad blood Molly and I have had between us… she helped me when I needed her. She helped me bring Dexter into the world safely, and she never made me feel like I owed her anything for it. That’s not something I can forget.”

“Of course not.”

“Objection matters to her. And if Finn was working with Loretta to hurt this company, then he was trying to hurt Molly, too. I can’t just pretend I don’t suspect something because Loretta isn’t around to answer for it anymore.”

Alex looks away, considering that. “I’ll grant you that Finn has always been a little … squirrely.”

“That’s why I’m asking questions.” She rises, smoothing the front of her shirt. “You know him better than I do, Alex. I thought you might be able to tell me whether anything about his finances ever struck you as odd.”

Alex shakes his head. “Nothing I can remember.”

Rosie nods, disappointed but not surprised. “All right. If you think of anything, let me know.”

She heads for the door, then pauses. “And Alex? If there’s something you don’t know about Finn, I’d rather you find out now than after he’s done whatever he came here to do.”

A moment later, Rosie lets herself out of the house.

Alex sits quietly for a moment before pulling out his iPhone. Rosie hasn’t told him anything that he didn’t already suspect. But she has given him the push to stop wondering and start looking. How, exactly, has Finn been paying his rent this whole time?

—–

Sabrina Gage carefully unwinds the gauze around Jason Fisher‘s hand, taking care not to disturb the healing skin beneath it. Jason sits on the edge of the bed, his other hand resting in his lap. The bandages around his neck are fresh, and the burns are beginning to look less angry, but the sight of them still makes her stomach tighten.

“How’s that feel?” she asks.

“Like somebody set my hand on fire.”

She shoots him a look.

“Sorry. Too soon?”

“Way too soon.”

Jason smiles, and Sabrina even manages a small one of her own. She reaches for the clean gauze Sophie left on the nightstand, then pauses as a sharp pain suddenly blooms behind her eyes.

She closes them. Not now. But the pain pulses, bright and searing, as if someone has driven a spike into the side of her head. She grips the edge of the mattress until the worst of it passes.

“Sabrina?”

She opens her eyes. Jason is watching her.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“It’s just a headache.” She picks up the gauze again, willing her hands to remain steady. “I’ve had a few lately.”

“A few?” Jason asks. “Like more of the really bad headaches you were getting?”

She tries to make it sound casual: “It’s nothing I can’t handle. They come and go.”

Jason doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go. He shifts his injured hand, wincing as the movement pulls at the dressing.

“Sorry,” Sabrina says immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. I’m just impatient to have two functioning hands again.”

“You’ll get there.”

She resumes wrapping his hand, concentrating on the task. It’s something she can do for him, something useful. She can’t undo the burns or make the pain go away, but she can help him heal.

And she can try not to think about how he got hurt in the first place.

The earthquake comes back to her in flashes. The violent shaking all around in the grocery store. The crash of products hitting the floor. The confusion, the scramble to figure out how to get home.

And the stove.

Sabrina’s fingers stop moving.

Had she turned the gas off? She remembers cooking, and she remembers leaving the house to run to the store, but the moments around her exit have become frustratingly indistinct. She can picture herself leaving the house and getting into her car. But can she actually remember turning off the stove? Or has she simply replayed the moment so many times that she’s filled in the gaps with what she needs to remember?

Her headache throbs again.

She has lived with the consequences of her brain injury for years. She knows what it’s like when her own mind becomes an unreliable narrator, when a familiar memory feels just out of reach. Most of the time, she knows how to manage it. She knows how to keep moving.

But this is different. Jason is sitting right in front of her, his hands wrapped in gauze, the burns on his neck a daily reminder of what happened.

What if she did leave the gas on? What if she is responsible for all of this and simply can’t remember it?

“Sabrina.” Jason’s voice pulls her back. She realizes she’s been holding the loose end of the gauze without moving.

“Sorry.” She finishes securing the dressing. “There. All set.”

He examines his hand as best he can. “Thanks.”

She leans forward and kisses him gently, careful of the bandage at his neck. For a moment, she lets herself rest against him, her eyes closed.

She wants to tell him what she’s thinking. She wants him to reassure her that she couldn’t have done this, that she’d remember something so important. But what if he asks her how she knows? What if she can’t give him an answer?

Sabrina pulls back and gathers the discarded gauze. Jason reaches for her with his uninjured hand, catching her fingers before she can move away.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You know you don’t have to do everything yourself.”

She looks at him, and the words nearly come out. Instead, she squeezes his hand. “I know.”

But she doesn’t know. Not about the stove. Not about those missing moments. And until she can be certain, she can’t make herself stop wondering whether she did this to him.

—–

Natalie remains standing across from Spencer, her hands braced against the back of the empty chair.

“Are you planning to use this to get Sonja into more trouble?” she asks.

“No,” Spencer says. “Sonja has been cooperative. And she’s going to spend years behind bars for killing Loretta.”

Natalie gives a short, disbelieving laugh.

“Cooperative? She’s a convicted murderer, Spencer. Whatever she’s telling you, she’s telling it for a reason.”

“I’m aware of that. But at least she’s finally telling me something,” he says. “And I think she wholly believes what she’s telling me, which is that Loretta paid her. It’s these records that say otherwise.”

He slides another document across the table. Natalie glances at it: a proposed divorce agreement.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he tells her. “You’re going to sign the agreement, and we’re going to put an end to this marriage.”

Natalie looks at the document without touching it. “This is different than what we’d agree on.”

‘It is. Because circumstances have changed, Natalie.”

“And what do I get?”

“You get a divorce. Your freedom.”

“Don’t be cute. What do I get?”

“Not the house. Not the windfall you were expecting.” His eyes sparkle with a trace of satisfaction. “Not the lifestyle you’ve been enjoying at my expense.”

“You can’t be serious,” she scoffs.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

“I’ve been your wife–“

“And even before that, you tried to keep my son from me for the first two years of his life. You actively worked to keep me from recovering from an injury. You manipulated the person who was supposed to help me recover.”

With a steely look, Natalie pulls out the chair and finally sits, though her posture remains rigid. “I’ll have my attorney review this.”

“You have 48 hours.”

“You just said you wanted to do this without the lawyers. Now you’re giving me a deadline?”

“I’m giving you a choice. You can sign the agreement, or you can fight me,” he says.

“And if I do fight you?”

Spencer leans forward. “Then I’ll make sure everyone knows about those payments. I’ll turn over everything I have to the appropriate authorities, and I’ll pursue full custody of Peter.”

Natalie stares at him. “You wouldn’t use your own son to punish me.”

“Peter is the reason I’m giving you a choice at all. I have no interest in tearing him away from his mother. But I won’t let you use him to protect yourself, either.”

“You think you can just take him from me?”

“I think I have more than sufficient grounds to fight for custody. And I think the questions raised by those payments would make that fight very different from the one you imagine.”

He lets that settle between them. “If you cooperate, you’ll have a place to live, modest though it might be, and you’ll see Peter. I’m not trying to leave him without a mother. But I’m done financing your life.”

Natalie looks down at the agreement. Her fingers tighten around its edge.

“And if I don’t sign?”

“Forty-eight hours, Natalie.” He closes the folder and stands. “Use them wisely.”

—–

Alex sits at the kitchen table, his iPhone beside his laptop. The house is quiet now that Rosie has gone, and he has a few minutes before he needs to pick up Chase. Plenty of time to answer one question.

How has Finn been paying his rent?

He opens the records for the Brooks home. The rent has been paid on time, month after month. There have been no late fees, no notices, no reason to contact the tenant. On paper, Finn has been an easy renter.

Which is part of what bothers Alex. Finn had been out of work for months, and even before that, his jobs at Objection hadn’t exactly paid executive salaries. Yet the rent kept coming, even after he lost his roommate, even after he was unemployed.

Alex scrolls back through the transactions, checking the dates against what he remembers of Finn’s employment history. He knows when Finn left Objection. He knows roughly how long he went without a job. And he knows that the rent never stopped.

He clicks into the details of a payment.

Then he stops.

The amount is exactly half the monthly rent. The sender’s name is familiar, but for a moment Alex can’t make sense of what he’s seeing. He checks the transaction before it, then the one before that. Same amount. Same sender.

Trevor.

Alex sits back in his chair, staring at the screen.

He checks the dates again. The first payment goes back more than a year. There are dozens of them, regular as clockwork, covering half of Finn’s rent while Finn was supposedly supporting himself.

Alex opens another record, hoping he’s misread something. He hasn’t. The payments are clear. Trevor has been sending money toward Finn’s rent for more than a year, and Alex has never heard a word about it.

He tries to think of an innocent explanation. Maybe Trevor offered to help Finn out during a rough patch. Maybe there was some arrangement between them that Trevor simply hadn’t thought to mention. After all, it is his family’s home. Maybe–

But half the rent? Every month? For more than a year?

Alex closes the laptop halfway, then opens it again. He needs to see the numbers one more time, as if the pattern might look different if he approaches it from another angle.

It doesn’t.

And all he can think about is the flirtation that he had sensed between Trevor and Finn. Trevor even admitted to engaging in it. But now he’s been floating half of Finn’s rent every month for this long?

Alex picks up his phone and opens Trevor’s contact. His thumb hovers over the call button.

What would he even ask? Why have you been paying Finn’s rent? And what kind of answer could Trevor give that would make this feel ordinary?

Alex sets the phone down. He isn’t ready to have this conversation. Not yet. First, he needs to understand what he’s looking at — and why his husband has been keeping it from him. For the first time, the question isn’t how Finn has been paying his rent.

It’s why Trevor has been paying it for him.

END OF EPISODE 1318

Is Alex about to learn much more than he bargained for?
Will Natalie accept Spencer’s new offer or fight back?
Can Sabrina gain clarity on what happened the day of the quake?
Discuss all this and more in the comments below!