Chapter 8: The Second Wife
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Vanessa slowly sat down.
Her hands were shaking so badly that she had to grip the edge of the table.
"He's married to me?"" she repeated.
Rebecca's voice came through the speaker.
"That's what I was told. But I don't know whether the marriage was registered.""
Daniel interrupted.
"Ms. Reed, do you have any documentation from that ceremony?""
Vanessa stared at him.
"I have photographs.""
"Where?""
"In my apartment.""
"Then we need copies.""
Vanessa looked at me.
"I swear I didn't know.""
I almost laughed.
"You didn't know he was still married, but you knew he was sleeping with you while married to me?""
Her face crumpled.
"I know how that sounds.""
"It sounds exactly like what it is.""
She lowered her eyes.
I returned my attention to Rebecca.
"You mentioned a lawsuit involving my mother's death.""
"Yes.""
"Tell me everything.""
Rebecca hesitated.
"Your mother was investigating a financial arrangement between Grant and Edward. Grant believed she had copies of the original ownership documents.""
"She did.""
"I know. He asked me to help him locate them.""
I gripped the table.
"When?""
"About four years ago. Shortly before your mother died.""
Daniel leaned forward.
"Did he explain why?""
"He said the documents could destroy his father's legacy and expose a financial fraud.""
"Did you help him?""
"No. I told him I wanted nothing to do with it.""
Rebecca paused.
"Two weeks later, your mother died.""
I felt the room tilt.
"Are you suggesting Grant was involved?""
"I'm saying he told me something afterward that frightened me.""
"What?""
"He said, 'Eleanor took her secrets to the grave. Now nobody can stop us.''"
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Daniel's expression became unreadable.
"Ms. Lawson, do you have evidence of that statement?""
"I recorded one of our conversations.""
My heart began pounding.
"Where is it?""
"On an old laptop. I still have it.""
"Can you send it?""
"I'll send everything.""
The call ended.
For several moments, I stared at the phone.
My mother had been gone for four years.
I had spent those years believing I had lost her to an illness that had taken her peacefully.
Now I was discovering that the man who had slept beside me every night might have known more about her final days than he had ever admitted.
Daniel closed his folder.
"Nia, we need to separate the financial investigation from the question of your mother's death. We cannot assume criminal involvement without evidence.""
"I understand.""
"And you should not confront Grant alone.""
I nodded.
But my attention was on Vanessa.
She looked devastated.
"Did you really marry him?"" I asked.
She shook her head.
"I don't remember signing a marriage license.""
"Then why did you say he was your husband?""
"Because he called me his wife.""
I stared at her.
"He introduced you as the woman who supported him.""
She began crying.
"I thought he was going to leave you. He said the divorce was already underway.""
"Did he tell you he had married me?""
"Yes.""
"Did he tell you he was still married to Rebecca?""
She shook her head.
I looked at Daniel.
"Can we verify the Nevada marriage?""
"Yes.""
He immediately contacted an investigator.
Within forty minutes, we had an answer.
A marriage license had been issued in Clark County eleven months earlier.
The names were Grant Whitmore and Vanessa Reed.
There was a signed certificate.
There was also a witness.
But the certificate had never been returned for official registration.
Daniel examined the scanned document.
"That's unusual.""
Vanessa leaned forward.
"What does it mean?""
"It may mean the ceremony occurred without a completed legal registration. We'll need the county's official records to determine the status.""
I looked at her.
"So he made you believe you were married?""
Vanessa nodded slowly.
"He said the paperwork was being handled by his attorney.""
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Then I remembered her hand resting on Grant's arm beneath the chandelier.
I remembered her smile.
And I remembered the seven million dollars.
"Where did that money go?"" I asked.
She wiped her eyes.
"I used some of it to purchase an apartment.""
"Where?""
"Tribeca.""
"Who owns it?""
She hesitated.
"Grant.""
I stared at her.
"You bought an apartment with my money, and he put it in his name?""
"He said it was for tax purposes.""
Daniel made a note.
"That property may be traceable.""
Vanessa nodded.
Then she suddenly remembered something.
"Wait.""
She opened her handbag and searched through a stack of papers.
"I brought this because I didn't know what it meant.""
She handed Daniel a printed bank transfer.
The transaction was dated six days before the gala.
The amount was $2.4 million.
The recipient was a private account registered to a company called *E.W. LEGACY MANAGEMENT.*
Daniel's face changed.
"Where did you get this?""
"Grant's office. It was on his printer.""
Daniel examined the account details.
"Edward Whitmore's old estate management company.""
I frowned.
"But Edward has been dead for six years.""
"Correct.""
"Who controls the account?""
Daniel didn't answer immediately.
He called the bank's compliance department.
After several minutes, he hung up.
"The account is still active.""
"Who owns it?""
Daniel looked at me.
"The authorized signatory is listed as Eleanor Hartwell.""
My mother's name.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"That's impossible.""
Daniel shook his head.
"Not necessarily. It may be an old authorization that was never removed.""
"But Mom died four years ago.""
"Which is why the bank should have been notified and the account reviewed.""
I stared at the transaction.
Two million four hundred thousand dollars.
Transferred from a company connected to my husband's mistress into an account bearing my mother's name.
"Who withdrew the money?"" I asked.
Daniel examined the authorization record.
Then he looked up.
"Someone using a power of attorney executed six months after your mother's death.""
I felt my fingers go numb.
"Whose signature?""
Daniel turned the paper around.
The signature was unmistakable.
*NIA WHITMORE.*
I hadn't signed it.
I had never even seen it.
Before I could speak, Daniel's phone rang.
He listened for a few seconds.
Then he stood.
"What do you mean the archive was accessed?""
His expression hardened.
"When?""
He listened again.
"Who authorized it?""
A pause.
Then he slowly lowered the phone.
I looked at him.
"What happened?""
Daniel's voice was quiet.
"Someone entered the Hartwell private records facility this morning.""
"Who?""
He opened his laptop and pulled up a security image.
A man in a dark coat was walking through the archive entrance.
I recognized him immediately.
Peter Shaw.
But he wasn't alone.
Behind him stood a woman.
A woman with my mother's face.
Not someone who looked similar.
Not a relative.
My mother.
Alive in the photograph, wearing the cream-colored coat I remembered from the last winter before her death.
I stepped closer to the screen.
"Daniel...""
May you like
He stared at the image.
"That photograph was taken this morning.""
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