Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN THEY BLAMED
The investigator introduced himself as Agent Cole Harper.
He did not treat me like a criminal.
That somehow made everything worse.
“Mrs. Bennett, I need you to understand that we are not saying you committed a crime.”
“But my name is on the account.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't open it.”
“We understand.”
“Then why are you here?”
He looked at the warrant.
“Because someone used your identity.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Agent Harper, I'm her attorney.”
Cole looked at him.
“I know.”
Daniel paused.
“You know me?”
“I know Whitmore, Bell & Grant.”
Daniel nodded.
“Then you know she isn't going to answer questions without counsel.”
Cole nodded.
“That is entirely appropriate.”
Ivan looked frustrated.
“You're all making this bigger than it is.”
Cole turned toward him.
“Mr. Bennett.”
Ivan straightened.
“We will need to speak with you as well.”
“I haven't done anything.”
“I didn't say you had.”
Ivan went silent.
Again.
The same pattern.
The same fear.
The same involuntary explanations.
Daniel noticed.
So did I.
We left that night.
Not with police.
Not arrested.
But with a warning.
The investigation would continue.
My brothers took Fiona and me to Noah's house.
It was large enough for all of us.
Fiona knew it as the place with the giant dog and the treehouse.
For the first time in weeks, she smiled.
Noah made hot chocolate.
Marcus ordered dinner.
Ethan checked every device I owned.
Luke said almost nothing.
He stood outside on the porch for nearly an hour.
I finally joined him.
“You're worried.”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
“What aren't you telling me?”
He was quiet.
Then he said,
“Your husband has been watched for six months.”
I stared.
“By whom?”
“Not us.”
“Then who?”
“Federal financial investigators.”
“Why?”
Luke looked toward the dark road.
“Because several companies connected to Ivan have been moving money through accounts belonging to people who never knew they existed.”
My stomach tightened.
“How many?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“Thirty-seven?”
“Yes.”
“And I'm one of them?”
“Your name was one of the first.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“We didn't know it was you.”
“What changed?”
“Your daughter.”
I looked at him.
“The dress?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“The moment Fiona was physically threatened, you called us.”
He looked at me.
“That changed the priority.”
I understood.
Before tonight, this was financial.
Now it was family.
Luke continued.
“Ethan found something.”
“What?”
“Your husband's company wasn't simply losing money.”
“Then what?”
“It was being drained deliberately.”
“By whom?”
Luke looked at me.
“Someone inside.”
I thought of Chloe.
Then Ivan.
Then the mysterious company.
“Which one?”
“We don't know.”
He paused.
“But there's something else.”
“What?”
“Your husband isn't the only person with access.”
I stared.
“Who else?”
“Someone in your family.”
My heart stopped.
“No.”
“Jessi.”
“No.”
He looked away.
“Your brother?”
I shook my head.
“All five of you?”
Luke didn't answer.
“Which one?”
“I can't tell you yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't know.”
That frightened me more.
Inside, Fiona was asleep.
Noah had placed the giant dog beside her bed.
I stood in the doorway.
She looked peaceful.
Safe.
I whispered,
“Thank you.”
Noah smiled.
“That's what uncles are for.”
I sat beside him.
“Do you think I'll get my house back?”
He looked at me.
“That's not the question.”
“What is?”
“Whether you want it.”
I thought about the marble kitchen.
The bedroom.
The photograph of our family.
The room where Fiona had cried.
“No.”
I whispered.
“I don't.”
Noah nodded.
“Then don't fight for the house.”
“Fight for what?”
“Your life.”
That sentence stayed with me.
At six the next morning, Ethan woke me.
“I found something.”
We went to the kitchen.
He had three laptops open.
“Look.”
A transaction.
Then another.
Then another.
Money had been moved from Ivan's company into the shell company in my name.
Then from that company into several accounts.
One belonged to a real estate developer.
One belonged to a political consulting firm.
One belonged to Chloe.
One belonged to a charity.
I frowned.
“Why the charity?”
Ethan zoomed in.
“That's interesting.”
The charity had a familiar name.
“The Bennett Foundation.”
I stared.
“My father's foundation.”
Ethan nodded.
“My father died when I was twelve.”
“Yes.”
“The foundation was closed.”
“It was supposed to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“It has been active for eight months.”
My skin prickled.
“Who reopened it?”
Ethan looked at me.
“Your husband.”
I sat down.
“My father trusted Ivan.”
“Apparently.”
I stared at the screen.
Then something clicked.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“My father left something.”
“What?”
“His watch.”
I had almost forgotten.
My father died when I was twelve.
He had worn an old gold watch.
My mother kept it.
When she died, she gave it to me.
Ivan had asked for it last year.
He said he wanted to have it repaired.
I had never seen it again.
“Ethan.”
He looked at me.
“Find out whether my father's watch was used as an asset.”
He typed.
His face changed.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“It was pledged as collateral.”
I felt sick.
“For what?”
“A loan.”
“How much?”
He turned the screen.
$1.2 million.
I stared.
“That watch was worth maybe six thousand dollars.”
“Exactly.”
“So why would anyone lend one point two million against it?”
Ethan looked at me.
“Because it wasn't the watch.”
“What?”
“It was the account attached to it.”
I didn't understand.
He opened another file.
My father had created a trust before he died.
A small one.
I knew about it.
It had been dormant.
Until eight months ago.
Someone had activated it.
Then transferred nearly two million dollars.
My name was listed as beneficiary.
But the money had never reached me.
I looked at Ethan.
“Who controls it?”
He hesitated.
“Your husband.”
I stood.
“No.”
“Jessi.”
“No.”
He pulled up the authorization.
Ivan had signed as trustee.
But beneath his signature was another signature.
A co-trustee.
My breath caught.
“Who?”
Ethan turned the screen.
I stared at the name.
Chloe Mercer.
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because the universe had apparently decided subtlety was no longer necessary.
My husband's mistress had access to my father's trust.
Then Luke walked into the room.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He pointed at one line.
“That's not Chloe's real name.”
I stared.
“What?”
“She changed it.”
“Why?”
“Because Chloe Mercer doesn't exist.”
Silence.
Ethan looked at Luke.
“Then who is she?”
Luke's answer came quietly.
“Her real name is Claire Bennett.”
I froze.
Bennett.
My family name.
“How?”
Luke looked at me.
“She is not your husband's mistress.”
I swallowed.
“Then what is she?”
Luke placed a photograph on the table.
A young woman.
A child.
And an older man.
The older man was my father.
The child was me.
The young woman stood beside him.
I recognized her face.
Not from memory.
From an old photograph in my mother's attic.
My father's other daughter.
My half-sister.
The one my mother had told me had died as a baby.
Luke looked at me.
“Claire is your half-sister.”
My entire body went cold.
And suddenly the ten-thousand-dollar dress made sense.
She had not come into my house because she wanted my husband.
She had come because she wanted something my father had left me.
May you like
Something worth far more than money.
Something Ivan had been helping her find.
