Chapter 6 - THE LAPTOP IN THE WALL
The missing laptop was found inside the wall of Luca's private office.
Not in a safe.
Not in a drawer.
Not hidden beneath a floorboard.
Inside the wall.
The contractor who discovered it was repairing a damaged electrical line when he saw a black case tucked between two studs.
Inside was Luca's old laptop.
A flash drive.
Two passports.
Three prepaid phones.
And a notebook.
The notebook was what frightened me.
Not because it contained secrets.
Because it contained dates.
Names.
Amounts.
And beside several entries was one word.
DONE.
Rachel sent me photographs.
I read the pages three times.
There were entries for Nathan.
Madison.
Evelyn.
Chloe.
Investors.
Contractors.
Even employees.
The notebook wasn't a record of expenses.
It was a record of control.
Luca had been tracking everyone.
Who owed him.
Who feared him.
Who could be bought.
Who could be pressured.
Who could be destroyed.
Then I saw my name.
JESSI — TRUST / LAKE HOUSE / PRIMARY EQUITY
Beside it were several dates.
The first was eleven months ago.
The exact month his affair with Chloe began.
The next entry was dated six months ago.
REMOVE HER FROM CONTROL.
Then another.
MOVE ASSETS BEFORE DIVORCE.
Then:
MAKE HER LOOK UNSTABLE.
I stopped breathing.
He hadn't simply planned to leave me.
He had planned to destroy my credibility first.
Rachel read the pages in silence.
Then she looked at me.
“This is devastating.”
I nodded.
“What does it mean legally?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether we can prove he used the plan.”
I pointed to the laptop.
“We have the laptop.”
“We need more.”
“What?”
“Emails. Messages. Financial records. Witnesses.”
I thought about Chloe.
“She might help.”
Rachel nodded.
“Maybe.”
I called her.
She didn't answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
Then at 9:18 p.m., a message appeared.
I need to talk to you. Alone.
We met at a small café twenty minutes outside Charlotte.
Chloe arrived wearing sunglasses despite the darkness.
She sat across from me.
“I don't know how much you know.”
“Enough.”
She swallowed.
“Luca told me you were unstable.”
“I assumed he did.”
“He said you were controlling.”
“I assumed that too.”
“He said you were obsessed with money.”
I almost laughed.
“He spent three million dollars on jewelry and hotels.”
She lowered her head.
“I know.”
“Why did you stay?”
“Because I loved him.”
I understood that answer more than I wanted to.
She looked at me.
“But there was something else.”
“What?”
“He promised me he was going to marry me.”
I said nothing.
“He said the divorce would be easy.”
“It wasn't.”
“No.”
She reached into her purse.
Then she placed a small envelope on the table.
“What is this?”
“Copies of messages.”
I opened it.
Luca had sent her dozens.
Some were ordinary.
Others weren't.
Jessi won't know.
The trust is handled.
Once the house is transferred, everything changes.
Don't ask about the money.
Nathan doesn't know.
And one message dated eight months earlier.
If Jessi fights, we make her look unstable.
I looked up.
Chloe was crying.
“I didn't know what he meant.”
“You didn't?”
“Not then.”
“When did you know?”
“When he told me he had recordings of you.”
My stomach tightened.
“What recordings?”
“He said he had enough to make you look mentally unstable.”
I leaned forward.
“What recordings?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Rachel needed to know immediately.
I called her.
She arrived thirty minutes later.
Chloe handed her the copies.
Rachel read them.
Then she looked at me.
“This is exactly what we needed.”
But there was more.
Chloe reached into her bag again.
“I have one other thing.”
She placed a small silver key on the table.
“What's that?”
“Luca's storage unit.”
I stared at her.
“How did you get it?”
“He gave it to me.”
“Why?”
“He told me to keep it safe.”
Rachel looked at the key.
“Did he tell you what was inside?”
“No.”
We went there that night.
The storage unit was small.
Barely large enough for a car.
Inside were boxes.
Dozens of them.
Financial statements.
Contracts.
Property records.
Photographs.
And a safe.
Rachel opened it with the key.
Inside was a USB drive.
She connected it to her laptop.
There were hundreds of files.
We opened the first.
A spreadsheet.
Then another.
Then another.
And finally, a folder labeled:
JESSI EXIT STRATEGY.
I stared at it.
Rachel opened the folder.
There were documents describing how Luca intended to force me out of the company.
How he planned to convince investors that I was emotionally unstable.
How he intended to move the lake property.
How he would transfer money offshore.
And how he would use Chloe as leverage.
At the bottom of the folder was one final document.
A draft press release.
I read the first sentence.
After years of attempting to manage an increasingly unstable spouse, Luca Vance has decided to step away from his marriage...
I couldn't read further.
Rachel closed the file.
“This is enough.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“It isn't.”
“What do you mean?”
I pointed at the folder.
“He planned to destroy me publicly.”
Rachel nodded.
“So?”
“So I'm not going to hide.”
I looked at Chloe.
Then at the documents.
Then at the life I had spent fourteen years building.
“I want the truth public.”
Rachel studied me.
“That will be messy.”
“I know.”
“It will hurt.”
“I know.”
“You'll lose privacy.”
I nodded.
“I already lost that.”
I looked at the lake through the open storage door.
“But I'm not losing myself.”
The next morning, our legal team filed the evidence.
By noon, Luca's attorneys requested an emergency settlement conference.
By three, his investors began calling.
By five, two major development partners suspended negotiations.
And at 7:42 p.m., my phone rang.
Luca.
I answered.
He didn't say hello.
“You've ruined everything.”
I looked out the window.
“No.”
My voice was calm.
“You did that yourself.”
“You think those documents prove anything?”
“Yes.”
“They'll never believe you.”
“I don't need them to believe me.”
I looked at the legal folder on the table.
“I have your records.”
He went silent.
Then his voice changed.
“Jessi.”
“What?”
“I want to make a deal.”
I smiled.
“It's too late.”
“For you?”
“For both of us.”
He whispered,
“You don't know what I've still got.”
The call ended.
I looked at Rachel.
“What does that mean?”
She didn't answer.
Then my phone received a photograph.
It was a picture of me.
Taken from outside my bedroom window.
May you like
The message underneath said:
You should have stopped asking questions.
