Chapter 2: The Woman Who Died Seven Years Ago
I stood on the staircase, holding my breath.
Downstairs, Marcus said something I couldn't quite hear.
Then Ethan answered.
"Check the account number on the third page.""
I hurried toward the guest bedroom.
My heels struck the wooden floor too loudly.
I closed the door and leaned against it.
My hands were shaking.
For seven years, Marcus had believed his first wife, Rebecca, had left behind a small inheritance account for Ethan.
He had also believed the account had been closed after Rebecca's death.
That was what I had told him.
But the truth was more complicated.
And far more dangerous.
I had met Marcus at a charity auction eighteen months before our wedding.
He was forty-nine, wealthy, charming, and lonely.
I was thirty-eight, divorced, and very good at recognizing men who wanted to feel needed.
Marcus had lost Rebecca to cancer seven years earlier.
He rarely spoke about her.
But her photographs were everywhere.
A framed picture on his desk.
A photograph in the upstairs hallway.
A family portrait beside the fireplace.
At first, I found it touching.
Then I found it inconvenient.
Whenever Marcus looked at those photographs, I felt like a guest in a house that would never belong to me.
Ethan made it worse.
He had been sixteen when his mother died.
He still remembered her favorite songs, her birthday, and the way she used to leave handwritten notes inside his lunchbox.
He had never wanted another woman to take her place.
I understood that.
But understanding didn't mean I intended to live in her shadow.
Three months into my marriage to Marcus, I discovered the account.
It wasn't a small inheritance.
It contained nearly two million dollars.
Rebecca had established it through a family trust, with Ethan as the sole beneficiary.
Marcus was the administrator, but he couldn't simply spend the money.
And the account had never been closed.
That discovery changed everything.
I had spent years rebuilding my life after my divorce. I was tired of worrying about rent, medical bills, and whether my next relationship would end with another suitcase beside the door.
Marcus's wealth had given me security.
But two million dollars would give me freedom.
I had never intended to take all of it.
At least, that was what I told myself.
A few transfers.
A temporary loan.
A little money moved through an account Marcus rarely checked.
I convinced myself it was harmless.
Then Ethan discovered the first transfer.
And everything began falling apart.
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Vanessa?""
Marcus.
I straightened my dress as best I could.
"Come in, darling.""
He opened the door but didn't enter.
He held the envelope in one hand.
"Where did you get the bank statements?""
I looked at him.
"I don't understand.""
"Don't do that.""
His voice was quiet.
I walked toward him.
"Marcus, I'm frightened. Your son has been threatening me for months, and now you're interrogating me.""
He didn't respond.
Instead, he placed the documents on the dresser.
"Did you access Rebecca's trust?""
I swallowed.
"Your wife?""
His eyes sharpened.
"My late wife.""
"I never touched anything belonging to her.""
"Then explain the transfers.""
I shook my head.
"Ethan could have created those documents.""
Marcus stared at me.
"Why would he do that?""
"Because he hates me.""
"That isn't an explanation.""
I reached for his hand.
"Marcus, please. We have been happy.""
He pulled away.
The movement was small.
But it hurt more than I expected.
"Have we?"" he asked.
I looked at him.
"What kind of question is that?""
"An honest one.""
He turned toward the door.
I grabbed his sleeve.
"Don't leave me alone with this.""
He stopped.
I lowered my voice.
"Your son hit me.""
Marcus looked down at my hand.
Then he gently removed it.
"I hit him.""
"Because he was attacking me!""
"No," Marcus said.
"I hit him because I believed you.""
He walked out.
The door remained open.
I stared at the empty hallway.
For the first time, I felt something close to panic.
Downstairs, Marcus sat at the dining table with his laptop open.
Ethan stood beside him.
A glass of water rested untouched near his father's elbow.
"Show me," Marcus said.
Ethan connected the flash drive.
A folder appeared on the screen.
Inside were dozens of files.
Scanned documents.
Bank statements.
Photographs.
Audio recordings.
And several short videos.
Marcus clicked the first photograph.
It showed me standing in his office.
I was holding a folder.
The timestamp read six weeks earlier.
Marcus looked at Ethan.
"How did you get this?""
"Your office camera sends backups to the security server. I found the files after I noticed a notification on your computer.""
Marcus enlarged the image.
The folder in my hand was clearly labeled REBECCA COLE FAMILY TRUST.
"Why didn't you tell me about this?""
"I tried.""
Marcus looked down.
Ethan continued.
"Remember dinner at the club? I asked if you had checked the trust statements. She told you I was asking because I wanted money.""
Marcus's face tightened.
"I remember.""
"Then you told me to stop obsessing over Mom's estate.""
Marcus closed his eyes briefly.
"I shouldn't have said that.""
Ethan didn't answer.
He opened another file.
This one contained a bank statement.
Marcus leaned forward.
The account balance was displayed at the top.
$1,842,600.
Below it were several withdrawals.
$50,000.
$75,000.
$120,000.
And a final transfer of $300,000, scheduled for the following morning.
Marcus stared at the screen.
"Where did this money go?""
Ethan opened another document.
A business registration.
The company name was Vantage Property Holdings.
The registered owner was Vanessa Cole.
Marcus slowly leaned back.
"She owns a company?""
"Apparently.""
"Why didn't I know?""
"Because it was registered two months before your wedding.""
Marcus looked toward the staircase.
"She told me she had no business interests.""
Ethan gave a humorless laugh.
"She told me a lot of things.""
Marcus turned toward him.
"Did she take the money?""
"I don't know where all of it went. But I found the transfers.""
He opened another folder.
This time, it contained a video.
Marcus clicked play.
The footage showed my reflection in the glass cabinet of his office.
I was speaking on the phone.
The audio was faint, but understandable.
"Once the final transfer clears, there won't be anything left to connect me to this place.""
A man's voice answered.
"Are you sure your husband won't notice?""
I laughed.
"Marcus barely notices what he signs. He's too busy feeling guilty about his son.""
Marcus froze.
Ethan looked at his father.
The recording continued.
"Then what about the boy?""
My voice became colder.
"Ethan is the problem. He knows about the trust. Once he leaves, everything becomes easier.""
The man asked another question.
"And if he doesn't?""
I smiled at my reflection.
"Then I'll make sure his father believes he's dangerous.""
The video ended.
Marcus sat motionless.
His hands were clenched.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he whispered, "Who is that man?""
Ethan shook his head.
"I don't know.""
Marcus replayed the audio.
The man's voice was unfamiliar.
But something about it sounded familiar to me.
Because I knew exactly who it was.
Daniel Price.
My former husband.
The man I had told Marcus was living overseas.
The man I had claimed I hadn't spoken to in five years.
And the man who had been helping me move money through shell companies.
At 10:17 p.m., I heard the front door open.
I was sitting on the guest bed, staring at my phone.
A message had arrived.
DANIEL: Did you get the transfer?
I typed quickly.
VANESSA: No. Ethan found the recordings.
The reply came almost immediately.
DANIEL: Then leave. Tonight.
VANESSA: I can't. Marcus knows about the trust.
DANIEL: You have no idea how bad this is.
I stared at the screen.
VANESSA: What did you do?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then my phone rang.
Daniel's name flashed across the screen.
I answered.
"What happened?""
His voice was sharp.
"Listen carefully. You need to get out of that house.""
"I know that.""
"No, Vanessa. You don't understand.""
"Then explain!""
He lowered his voice.
"Marcus's attorney called me.""
My stomach dropped.
"Why would his attorney call you?""
"Because your name came up in an investigation involving Rebecca's trust.""
I stood up.
"What investigation?""
"Someone reported the withdrawals.""
I gripped the phone.
"Who?""
Daniel didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "Ethan.""
I looked toward the bedroom door.
"How could he report it? He's not even the account administrator.""
"He doesn't need to be. He's the beneficiary.""
My mouth went dry.
"Daniel, you said the transfers were untraceable.""
"They were supposed to be.""
"Supposed to be?""
"Vanessa, stop asking questions and listen. The three hundred thousand dollars isn't the biggest problem.""
I closed my eyes.
"What is?""
He took a breath.
"The money from Rebecca's account wasn't the only money that disappeared.""
I stared at the wall.
"What are you talking about?""
"There's another account.""
"What account?""
"An account opened in your name. It contains money that doesn't belong to you.""
My knees weakened.
"How much?""
"Almost four million dollars.""
I couldn't breathe.
"Daniel...""
"Some of it came from Marcus. Some came from the trust. And some came from the company I set up for you.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I thought we had more time.""
I heard a noise outside the bedroom.
Footsteps.
Then a voice.
"Vanessa?""
Marcus.
I quickly ended the call.
"Yes, darling?""
The door opened.
Marcus stood in the doorway.
His expression was unreadable.
Behind him, Ethan held a second envelope.
A larger one.
Marcus looked at my phone.
"Who were you talking to?""
"No one.""
He held out his hand.
"Give me your phone.""
I laughed nervously.
"Why?""
"Because I want to know who Daniel Price is.""
My entire body went cold.
Marcus stepped into the room.
"Do you want to explain why my wife is speaking to her former husband at ten o'clock at night?""
I stared at Ethan.
He placed the second envelope on the dresser.
Then he spoke.
"There's something inside that envelope you need to see, Dad.""
Marcus opened it.
And the first photograph he pulled out showed Daniel and me standing outside a courthouse.
The date was three days before my wedding to Marcus.
But it wasn't the photograph that destroyed my remaining hope.
It was the document behind it.
A marriage certificate.
With my name.
And Daniel's.
Because apparently, eighteen months earlier, I hadn't just married Marcus.
May you like
I had married two men.
And one of them had never divorced me.
