Chapter 4 - The USB DriveBy ten-thirty that morning, Claire Bennett had vanished.
That bothered me more than I expected.
The same bronze sculpture stood near the elevator.
The same black-and-white photographs of Chicago covered the hallway.
The same antique chessboard sat beside the windows.
Even the faint scent of cedar and coffee transported me backward.
I was twenty-seven again.
Before Caleb.
Before apologizing became a reflex.
Before I learned to read footsteps in hallways and moods across dinner tables.
My father's housekeeper, Mrs. Alvarez, opened the door and burst into tears when she saw me.
"Oh, sweetheart."
I hadn't seen her in nearly two years.
She hugged me so carefully that it made me cry harder than anything Caleb had done.
By midnight, Dr. Feld had examined me.
Bruising.
A cut lip.
Minor swelling.
A sprained wrist from falling.
No broken bones.
Physically, I would heal quickly.
The rest was less simple.
I sat in my old bedroom wrapped in a robe while my father stood near the window.
"You should sleep."
"So should you."
"I'm sixty-one. Sleep is increasingly optional."
I almost smiled.
Then his expression changed.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
There it was.
The question I had been avoiding.
I looked down at my hands.
"Because you hated him."
"I distrusted him."
"You told me not to marry him."
"I was right."
"That made it harder."
He absorbed that without defending himself.
After a moment, he sat across from me.
"I should have handled that differently."
I looked up.
He continued.
"When your mother died, I became terrified of losing you too. I confused protecting you with controlling your choices."
Those words surprised me.
William Vance rarely apologized.
Not because he lacked humility.
Because he usually thought before he acted.
"I wanted one thing that wasn't about our name," I whispered.
"I know."
"I wanted to find out if someone could choose me without choosing Vance International."
Dad nodded.
"And Caleb did."
My laugh was bitter.
"He chose the version of me he thought he could dominate."
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Finally, Dad said, "Elena found something."
My attorney entered fifteen minutes later carrying a laptop.
Elena Park had known me since law school. Brilliant, composed, and incapable of being intimidated, she was exactly the person Caleb would hate dealing with.
She placed the computer on my bed.
"Before we discuss this, I need you to decide what you want."
"A divorce."
"Good. That's clear."
"And I want him out of the house."
"Also possible."
"What did you find?"
She hesitated.
"Financial irregularities."
My stomach tightened.
"In Caleb's business?"
"In several businesses."
She opened a spreadsheet.
Three years earlier, Caleb's family company, Prescott Development, had faced serious liquidity problems. Through one of my investment vehicles, I had quietly purchased distressed debt tied to several projects.
I had done it because I loved him.
I never told him.
I thought protecting his pride was an act of kindness.
Elena pointed to several transfers.
"Over the last eighteen months, money began leaving two operating accounts and moving through consulting entities."
"How much?"
"Approximately $6.8 million."
I stared.
"To where?"
"That's what we're tracing."
Dad's voice was cold.
"Some of the receiving companies appear connected to Vanessa Cole."
My chest tightened.
Vanessa.
So this wasn't only an affair.
She had been receiving money.
Elena continued.
"There's more. Caleb pledged assets as collateral that he may not legally control."
"What assets?"
She looked at me.
"The Lake Forest estate."
I sat upright.
"He can't."
"I know."
"The property is owned by Winstead Holdings."
"Which you control."
"Exactly."
Elena nodded.
"Someone submitted documentation suggesting Prescott Development had authority to encumber it."
My mouth went dry.
"Forgery?"
"Possibly."
Dad crossed his arms.
"Definitely."
Elena shot him a look.
"Possibly, until we prove otherwise."
I thought about Caleb laughing in our kitchen while complaining that my consulting income wasn't enough.
He had once told me I didn't understand financial pressure.
Meanwhile, he had apparently leveraged my property.
A cold feeling replaced grief.
"What happens now?"
Elena closed the laptop.
"Now we preserve evidence."
The next morning at 8:47, Caleb called.
I didn't answer.
8:49.
Again.
8:53.
Again.
At 9:02, a text appeared.
SAVANNAH, PLEASE STOP THIS NONSENSE. WE NEED TO TALK LIKE ADULTS.
I stared at it.
Then another arrived.
VANESSA IS GONE. SHE MEANT NOTHING.
That sentence should have broken my heart.
Instead, it clarified everything.
He wasn't sorry for hurting me.
He was sorry Vanessa had left.
At 9:07, my phone rang from an unknown number.
I answered.
"Savannah?"
A woman's voice.
Young.
Nervous.
"Who is this?"
"My name is Claire Bennett. I work in accounting at Prescott Development."
I looked at Elena.
She immediately began taking notes.
Claire continued.
"I know you don't know me, but I think you need to hear something."
"What?"
Silence.
Then:
"Your husband has been stealing from his own company."
My heart hammered.
"How do you know?"
"Because I helped move the money."
Elena leaned closer.
I put the call on speaker.
Claire's breathing was uneven.
"He told us they were executive transfers. Consulting fees. Vendor payments. But the invoices were fake."
"Why are you calling me?"
"Because this morning he ordered us to delete the backup files."
Elena's eyes sharpened.
"Don't delete anything," she said.
Claire startled.
"Who's that?"
"My attorney."
"Oh God."
"Claire," Elena said calmly, "do you still have access to the records?"
"Yes."
"Do not alter them. Do not email them to anyone. Preserve everything exactly as it is."
Claire whispered, "He's coming in."
"When?"
"Now."
We heard a door slam through the phone.
Then Caleb's voice somewhere in the background.
"Claire!"
She gasped.
"I have to go."
The line disconnected.
I stared at my phone.
Dad's expression had changed.
Not anger now.
Concern.
"Elena?"
She was already standing.
"I'm calling outside counsel."
My phone buzzed.
A message from Claire.
Only four words.
HE KNOWS I CALLED YOU.
Then another.
May you like
PLEASE DON'T LET HIM FIND THE USB.
And before I could ask what she meant, the typing bubble disappeared.
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