Chapter 3: The Woman Who Was Never Overseas
“Tell them who you are,” Vanessa said.
“Tell them why Daniel left his wife to live with you.”
The woman removed her gloves and placed them beside the envelope.
“I’m Eleanor Hale,” she said.
“Vanessa’s mother.”
A whisper moved through the room.
Vanessa’s colleagues looked from her to me.
“And Daniel has been living in my guest room,” Eleanor continued, “because my daughter sold my house while I was recovering from surgery.”
“That is a lie!” Vanessa snapped.
Eleanor opened the envelope and pulled out a property statement.
“Then explain this.”
Vanessa glanced at the page but refused to touch it.
“You asked me to manage the sale,” she said.
“You signed the papers.”
“I signed permission for repairs.
You attached my signature to a sale agreement.”
“You were confused.”
“I was recovering, Vanessa.
I was not confused.”
I moved closer to Eleanor as her hand began to shake.
“Where did the money go?” I asked.
Vanessa lifted her chin.
“Mother had debts.”
“She had no mortgage,” I said.
“Her medical expenses were covered, and I paid for her home care.”
“You had no right to interfere in my family.”
“I am your husband.”
“Not for much longer.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
Vanessa saw it and gave a small, satisfied smile.
Eleanor pushed another document toward me.
“Daniel, look at the receiving account.”
I read the company name printed beneath the transfer.
“Northstar Consulting.”
“John’s company,” Eleanor said.
Vanessa snatched the paper.
“You don’t know that.”
“I checked the registration.”
“You could have printed this yourself.”
Eleanor reached into the envelope again.
“The filing carries John Mercer’s name and your office address.”
Vanessa tore the page down the middle.
Several guests gasped.
I picked up the pieces and placed them together on the table.
“You just destroyed your mother’s document in front of twenty witnesses.”
“It was a copy,” Eleanor said.
“My solicitor has the original.”
Vanessa’s smile disappeared.
Her phone rang again.
JOHN flashed across the screen.
“Answer it,” I said.
“No.”
“Put him on speaker.”
“I said no.”
Eleanor leaned across the table.
“Ask him why £420,000 from my home passed through Northstar before it reached the account you share with him.”
Vanessa stumbled backward.
“There is no shared account.”
“Then you won’t mind showing Daniel your banking application.”
“You planned this,” Vanessa whispered.
“Both of you.”
“No,” I said.
“We came for an answer.
You chose to give us a performance.”
The elevator opened once more.
A tall man in a charcoal suit stepped out, loosening his tie as he approached us.
Vanessa’s face changed instantly.
“John,” she breathed.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
He looked at the torn document, then at Eleanor.
“I came because you stopped answering.”
I held up Vanessa’s phone.
“She stopped answering after your message about moving the money.”
John’s eyes rested on me without blinking.
“You must be Daniel.”
“And you must be the man who isn’t her manager.”
May you like
John smiled and reached inside his jacket.
“I think,” he said, taking out a folded document, “you should worry less about Vanessa and more about the signature that puts every missing dollar in your name.”
