Chapter 3: The Woman Who Thought She Was His Wife
I read Vanessa's message three times before I replied.
*How long have you known him?*
The answer came almost immediately.
*Two years.*
Two years.
I leaned against the marble wall.
For two years, Daniel had kissed me goodbye before business trips.
For two years, I had attended charity dinners with him, celebrated our anniversary, and listened to him complain about how exhausting his life was.
For two years, he had apparently been telling another woman that our marriage was over.
My phone vibrated again.
*Can we meet? Please. There's something you need to know.*
I looked at Renee.
“Do you know anyone named Vanessa Reed?””
“Not personally.””
“She says she's pregnant with Daniel's child.””
Renee's expression tightened.
“Don't meet her alone.””
“I wasn't planning to.””
“Send me the messages. I'll arrange a safe location.””
I forwarded everything.
Then I looked at the photograph again.
Daniel was smiling.
Not his public smile.
Not the one he used at business dinners.
It was the relaxed, genuine smile he used to give me when we were first married.
That hurt more than I expected.
I slipped the phone into my handbag.
“Let's go home.””
The drive back to Westbury Lane took thirty-five minutes.
I sat in the passenger seat of Renee's car, watching the city lights blur against the windows.
I remembered our first apartment.
It had been small, with terrible heating and a kitchen barely large enough for two people.
Daniel used to make pancakes on Sunday mornings.
He would burn half of them, laugh, and insist the black edges were intentional.
Back then, he had been charming without trying.
Or perhaps I had simply wanted to believe he was.
When we bought our first house, he stood in the empty living room and promised me something.
“I'm going to make you proud, Sophia.””
I had kissed him.
“You already do.””
Now I wondered whether he had ever meant it.
We arrived shortly before eleven.
The house was enormous, but it felt strangely unfamiliar.
White stone floors. Tall windows. A staircase that curved toward the second floor.
Every piece of furniture had been selected by me.
Every painting had been purchased through my family's collection.
Even the expensive wine in the cellar had come from my father's estate.
Daniel had lived here for six years.
Yet somehow, I was the one who felt like a guest.
Renee placed her folder on the kitchen island.
“I'll have security update the access records tomorrow morning.””
“Thank you.””
“And Sophia?””
I looked up.
“Don't confront him about Vanessa until we know exactly what we're dealing with.””
I nodded.
She left.
I was alone.
For twenty minutes, I simply stood in the kitchen.
Then I went upstairs.
Daniel's side of the closet was filled with expensive suits, designer shoes, and watches.
I opened a drawer.
Inside were several receipts.
A hotel in Manhattan.
A jewelry store.
A luxury maternity boutique.
I picked up the last receipt.
It was dated three weeks earlier.
A silver bracelet.
Engraved with the words:
*For my forever girl.*
I sat on the edge of the bed.
My phone rang.
Daniel.
I watched it vibrate.
Then I answered.
“Where are you?”” he demanded.
“At home.””
“Good. We need to talk.””
“About what?””
“About what you did tonight.””
I almost smiled.
“You mean canceling your card?””
“You embarrassed me in front of everyone!””
“You embarrassed yourself.””
He exhaled sharply.
“Sophia, listen to me. I know you're angry, but this is ridiculous. You can't just cut me off because of one stupid comment.””
“One comment?””
“Jesus Christ. Are we really going to do this?””
I looked at the receipt in my hand.
“Daniel, who is Vanessa Reed?””
Silence.
Not the ordinary silence of someone searching for an answer.
The silence of someone who has just realized the conversation has changed.
“Who?””
“Vanessa Reed.””
“I don't know anyone by that name.””
I looked at the photograph again.
“You're a terrible liar.””
His voice hardened.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?””
“It means I have a photograph of you with a woman who says she's pregnant with your child.””
Another silence.
Then he laughed.
A short, bitter laugh.
“Unbelievable.””
“Is it true?””
“Sophia, she's nobody.””
“Nobody?””
“She's an employee. There was a misunderstanding.””
“Employees usually don't receive monthly allowances through shell companies.””
His breathing changed.
“Where did you hear that?””
“Does it matter?””
“Yes, it matters!””
“Why?””
“Because you're looking at confidential business information that you don't understand.””
I stood up.
“Daniel, I own the company.””
“That's not what I meant.””
“Then explain what you meant.””
He said nothing.
Then his voice softened.
“Sophia, sweetheart. Come on. We've been married eight years. Don't let some woman destroy our marriage.””
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The affectionate voice.
The careful words.
The version of Daniel who appeared whenever he wanted something.
“Did you tell her we were divorced?””
He hesitated.
“I can explain.””
“Did you?””
“Sophia—”
“It's a simple question.””
He sighed.
“Yes.””
I gripped the phone.
“Why?””
“Because things between us have been difficult for a long time.””
“Difficult?””
“You're always working. You're never available. I needed someone who understood me.””
I looked around the bedroom.
The expensive sheets.
The custom furniture.
The photographs from our anniversary trips.
All of it suddenly seemed like a museum dedicated to a marriage that had existed only in my imagination.
“So you needed someone who understood you,” I repeated.
“Yes.””
“And you found her by spending my money?””
He snapped.
“Don't start acting like I stole from you!””
I stared at the ceiling.
Then I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I had finally heard him say the quiet part out loud.
“Daniel, where are you right now?””
“At the hotel.””
“Which hotel?””
“Why?””
“Because I want to know whether you're planning to come home.””
He hesitated.
“I'm coming home tomorrow.””
“No, you're not.””
“Excuse me?””
“You can arrange to collect your personal belongings through Renee.””
His voice rose.
“You cannot throw me out of my own house!””
“It's not your house.””
“I'm your husband!””
“Not an owner.””
He went silent.
Then he said something I would remember for the rest of my life.
“You'll regret this, Sophia.””
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking.
I put the phone down and walked toward the window.
Outside, the garden lights illuminated the trees. Beyond the glass, the swimming pool reflected the moon.
I had spent years trying to create a beautiful life for us.
Now I understood that beauty could hide an extraordinary amount of ugliness.
At 11:47 p.m., Vanessa called.
I answered.
“Hello?””
A woman's nervous voice came through.
“Mrs. Carter?””
“Yes.””
“My name is Vanessa Reed.””
“I know.””
There was a pause.
Then she began crying.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know.””
I leaned against the window frame.
“Didn't know what?””
“That he was still married.””
I looked down at the photograph.
“You've been with him for two years.””
“I know how that sounds.””
“How does it sound, Vanessa?””
She sniffed.
“Terrible.””
“Then explain.””
She took a shaky breath.
“Daniel told me you were separated. He said you lived in different parts of the country and were only waiting for the legal paperwork to be completed.””
I said nothing.
“He showed me a document,” she continued.
“A divorce filing. He said you were the one delaying it because of money.””
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Did you ever meet me?””
“No.””
“Did you ever attend an event with him?””
“No. He said you hated public attention.””
I looked toward the photographs on the wall.
There were dozens of them.
Daniel and me at charity galas.
Daniel and me at family weddings.
Daniel and me celebrating our anniversary.
He had not been hiding me.
He had been hiding her.
“Why are you contacting me now?”” I asked.
“Because I found something.””
“What?””
“An email.””
I waited.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“Daniel left his laptop open. I saw a message from someone at his company. It mentioned your trust and a transfer scheduled for Monday.””
My stomach tightened.
“What transfer?””
“I don't know the details. But I saw the amount.””
“How much?””
She hesitated.
“Eight million dollars.””
I stopped breathing for a moment.
Eight million.
That was far beyond the money Renee had found.
“Where was it going?””
“To a company called Northbridge Holdings.””
I walked to the kitchen island and grabbed a pen.
“Who owns it?””
“I don't know. But there's something else.””
“What?””
“He told me the money was for our future.””
I looked down at the notebook.
Then Vanessa whispered:
“He said that once you were out of the picture, he would finally have control of everything.””
My fingers tightened around the pen.
“Out of the picture?””
“I think he meant the divorce. But…”
She stopped.
“But what?””
“I found a document with your name on it.””
“What kind of document?””
“A power of attorney.””
I froze.
“I never signed a power of attorney.””
“I know.””
“How do you know?””
“Because your signature was on the document, but it looked strange. I work in banking, Mrs. Carter. I process legal documents every day.””
I looked toward the staircase.
“Vanessa, do you still have it?””
“Yes.””
“Don't touch anything else. Don't tell Daniel you've contacted me.””
“I'm scared.””
“So am I.””
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, almost in a whisper:
“Mrs. Carter, I don't think Daniel is planning to divorce you.””
I felt the room tilt.
“Why?””
“Because I heard him on the phone yesterday.””
“What did he say?””
Vanessa took a shaky breath.
“He said that once the transfer went through, you wouldn't be able to stop him.””
My phone vibrated with a new message.
It was from Renee.
*Sophia, we have a problem. I just received confirmation that someone attempted to submit a power of attorney using your signature.*
A second message appeared.
*The document authorizes Daniel Carter to transfer ownership of your controlling shares.*
I stared at the screen.
Then Renee called.
I answered immediately.
“Tell me you can stop it.””
Her voice was tight.
“I'm trying. But there's a bigger problem.””
“What?””
“The document wasn't submitted by Daniel.””
I gripped the edge of the counter.
“Then who submitted it?””
Renee paused.
“Your brother.””
I stopped moving.
May you like
My brother, Andrew, had been dead for eleven months.
And according to Renee, his name was on the authorization that could cost me everything.
