My name is Annegret Kollmann. I drove home during my lunch break because something was bothering me.
For three days, my husband, Gero Preuß, had been claiming he was too ill to work—he lay coughing weakly under a gray blanket, while I, feeling guilty about leaving him alone, hurried to my job at the Isar Clinic. That afternoon, I had bought chicken soup and ginger beer, determined to prove to him that I was a caring wife.
I parked a little further down the street so the garage door wouldn’t give him a heads-up and slipped quietly inside.
I had expected to hear a cough. Instead, I heard Gero’s voice—firm, controlled, perfectly healthy. “I explained the schedule to you,” he said. “She mustn’t suspect anything before Friday.”
A woman’s voice came impatiently from the loudspeaker. “Then stop putting it off. You promised me the deed and the confirmation.” My pulse was pounding in my ears. I crept closer and saw him walking upright and strong, the sunlight on his face, no sign of illness.
“I’ve already put the money aside,” he said calmly. “Let me take care of the rest.” Money. Certificate. Friday. “It’s here,” he murmured suddenly. “I have to hang up.”
I stepped into the kitchen and called out firmly, “Hi, I just got home.” Seconds later, he appeared, wrapped in a blanket, coughing theatrically. “What are you doing here?” he asked with a forced smile. “I brought some soup,” I said, watching him closely. When I asked who he’d been talking to, he answered without looking me in the eye, “Work stuff.”
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with an email notification: German Federal Bank – confirmation of account change. I had never set up such notifications.
At the bank branch, an employee informed me that a new phone number had been added to our account that morning. Mail notifications had been redirected to an address in the name of Jordan Rische. There was also a pending application to remove me as a joint account holder. I immediately had the account blocked and stipulated that any changes could only be made in person with identification.
Then I called my friend Heike, who is a legal assistant, and told her everything.
“Check the land registry today,” she advised me.
At the land registry, we found a preliminary entry of transfer of ownership, which was to be submitted on Friday – this was intended to transfer Gero’s share of our house to a company called Rische Vermögensverwaltung GmbH (Rische Asset Management Ltd.). Gero was listed as the managing director. The GmbH had been founded two months prior. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision. This was planned.
