Chapter 3 - THE ACCOUNT THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
I barely slept.
The next morning, I woke up in the guest room of my brothers' private residence outside the city.
My wrists were wrapped in medical bandages.
A doctor had examined me during the night and told me there was no fracture.
Just bruising.
Just pain.
Just evidence.
I stared at the ceiling.
For the first time in years, I allowed myself to admit something I had spent a long time avoiding.
I had been afraid of my husband.
Not physically every day.
Not in obvious ways.
Zachary had never needed to hit me before.
He had controlled me differently.
With money.
With social pressure.
With silence.
With humiliation disguised as jokes.
With the constant reminder that his family believed they had elevated me above the life I was born into.
Every time I challenged him, he reminded me that I was lucky.
Every time I disagreed with his mother, Beatrice reminded me that I had entered their family as an outsider.
Every time I mentioned my brothers, Zachary laughed.
“You're not one of them anymore.”
That sentence had hurt more than I ever admitted.
Because part of me had believed it.
Then my bedroom door opened.
Jonathan walked in carrying coffee.
“You're awake.”
“I couldn't sleep.”
He handed me a cup.
“Neither could I.”
I looked at him.
“What did you find?”
He didn't answer immediately.
That frightened me more than if he had simply said everything was fine.
Finally, he sat across from me.
“Dominic found something.”
“What?”
“An account.”
I waited.
“An offshore account connected indirectly to Harrington Construction.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“We don't know the full amount yet.”
“How much do you know?”
“Twenty-seven million dollars.”
I nearly dropped the coffee.
“What?”
Jonathan leaned forward.
“And that's only one account.”
I stared at him.
“Where did the money come from?”
“That's the problem.”
He handed me a folder.
Inside were documents.
Invoices.
Wire transfers.
Company registrations.
Names I recognized.
Some belonged to Harrington Construction.
Others didn't.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Laurent Strategic Consulting.
I looked at Jonathan.
“Bianca?”
“Her family owns a small consulting company.”
“Small?”
“Very small.”
He turned a page.
“Three employees.”
I stared at the numbers.
“They received twelve million dollars from Harrington-related companies over eighteen months.”
My mouth went dry.
“Why?”
“We're still investigating.”
A knock sounded.
Dominic entered.
He looked exhausted.
“I have something else.”
Jonathan looked up.
“Go.”
Dominic placed another folder on the table.
“Remember the charity foundation Beatrice controls?”
I nodded.
“They've been donating to children's hospitals for years.”
“Correct.”
“Except some of those donations appear to circle back.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Money leaves the foundation.”
He tapped a page.
“Then goes through two nonprofit entities.”
Another page.
“Then returns to a company controlled by Donald.”
I stared at the documents.
“Are you saying they stole from their own charity?”
“I’m saying the records require explanation.”
Jonathan's expression hardened.
“We'll let the evidence speak.”
That was how my brothers operated.
They didn't scream.
They didn't threaten.
They documented.
Every number.
Every transfer.
Every signature.
Every timestamp.
And that frightened me more than anger ever could.
My phone suddenly rang.
Zachary.
I stared at the screen.
Jonathan didn't tell me whether to answer.
The choice was mine.
I accepted.
“Hello?”
His voice came immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“You need to come home.”
“No.”
A pause.
“You're my wife.”
“And you're my husband.”
“Then act like it.”
I laughed softly.
“You tied me to a beam.”
“I was angry.”
“You hit me thirty times.”
“You embarrassed me.”
“You cheated on me.”
Silence.
Then his voice changed.
“Genevieve, don't make this worse.”
I looked at Jonathan.
“What happens if I don't?”
“You don't understand what you're doing.”
I almost smiled.
“That's funny.”
“What?”
“For years you told me I didn't understand your world.”
I looked at the documents.
“Maybe I finally understand it.”
He went quiet.
Then he said something that changed everything.
“You have no idea what your father-in-law sacrificed to build this company.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You think your brothers are going to protect you?”
“They already are.”
“You're going to regret this.”
The call ended.
I stared at my phone.
Jonathan noticed my expression.
“What did he say?”
I repeated the sentence.
My brother's face became thoughtful.
Then Lucas entered.
“That's interesting.”
“What?”
Lucas placed his laptop on the table.
“Because I've been looking into the Harrington family history.”
He turned the screen toward us.
“Donald didn't build the company alone.”
I stared at an old photograph.
Donald stood beside another man.
A younger version of himself.
And beside him was someone I recognized.
My own father.
I froze.
“That's impossible.”
Jonathan looked at the photograph.
“What?”
“My father knew Donald.”
Lucas nodded.
“Not just knew him.”
He clicked another file.
“They were business partners.”
My heart began pounding.
“My father never mentioned the Harringtons.”
“Because the partnership ended badly.”
“How badly?”
Lucas looked at me.
“Badly enough that your father walked away.”
I stood.
“Why?”
Nobody answered.
Then Dominic opened another document.
“There was a lawsuit.”
My hands began trembling.
“What kind?”
“Fraud.”
I stared at him.
“Against whom?”
Dominic slowly looked at me.
“Donald Harrington.”
The room became silent.
My father had died when I was twenty-three.
He had taken his secrets with him.
At least, I thought he had.
Jonathan closed the folder.
“We're going to find out everything.”
I sat back down.
For years, I had believed I married into the Harrington family.
May you like
Now I was beginning to wonder if our families had been connected long before I ever met Zachary.
And if that was true, then the marriage might never have been the accident I thought it was.
