Chapter 8 - Emma’s Last NightThe second phone was exactly where Victoria said it would be.
Seven days.
Private villa.
Oceanfront pool.
No meetings.
No phones except emergencies.
Victoria had insisted on it.
“You’ve spent a year surviving,” she told me when she booked the trip. “For one week, I want you to live.”
Now Detective Kim was telling me Grant had planned for me not to finish it.
Michael Reese refused to answer formal questions without counsel.
But according to the arresting officer, panic had loosened his tongue before the lawyer arrived.
Grant had told him there would be “an incident” during my honeymoon.
Nothing specific.
Michael claimed he never agreed to hurt me.
His role was logistics.
Transportation.
Access.
Security schedules.
That was enough.
Sarah immediately contacted authorities in St. Lucia and requested information from the resort.
Daniel arrived at the police station shortly afterward.
Leo was safe with Teresa and Caroline under police protection.
“You need to hear this,” Daniel said.
He opened his laptop.
“We found changes to your travel insurance.”
I stared at him.
“What changes?”
“Coverage tripled two months ago.”
“By whom?”
“Policy changes came through your family office.”
“Grant.”
“His office.”
Beneficiary?
I didn’t need to ask.
Sterling Family Holdings.
A company partly controlled by Grant.
The pieces were becoming less like coincidence and more like architecture.
A whole structure built around my disappearance.
Sarah laid photographs across the table.
“There’s another problem.”
The villa Victoria booked had a private cliffside road.
Limited camera coverage.
Private pool.
Private boat access.
“It’s perfect,” I said.
“For what?”
“For an accident.”
Nobody answered.
I thought of Victoria saying she planned the trip because I needed peace.
Maybe she had planned the opposite.
Sarah said, “Victoria claims she didn’t know about any plan to physically harm you.”
“Convenient.”
“She admits booking the villa.”
“Also convenient.”
“She says Grant chose the resort.”
I looked at Daniel.
He nodded.
“Reservation emails confirm the recommendation came from Grant.”
I felt something inside me break.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
Because even after the phone call, the forged documents, the money, and the threats, some part of me had still been clinging to childhood.
Grant teaching me to ride a bike.
Grant standing beside me at Dad’s funeral.
Grant giving the toast at my first wedding.
Grant holding Leo in the hospital hallway while I signed papers nobody should ever have to sign.
Had he been comforting me hours after helping create the disaster?
I stood.
“I want to see him.”
Sarah shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re still gathering evidence.”
“He’s my brother.”
“That’s exactly why.”
“I need him to look at me.”
“You need him convicted.”
Those words stopped me.
Sarah continued.
“People like Grant survive because everyone around them needs emotional answers more than legal ones.”
I sat again.
“What happens now?”
“We build the case.”
The investigation expanded fast.
Forensic accountants entered Sterling Developments.
Board members were contacted.
Emails preserved.
Devices seized.
By midnight, we knew Grant had diverted at least eleven million dollars over five years.
Not three point eight.
Eleven.
He had financed bad investments.
Luxury properties.
Private loans.
Gambling losses disguised through intermediaries.
He needed more.
A lot more.
My controlling shares were worth hundreds of millions.
But he couldn’t simply take them.
My estate plan protected Leo.
So Grant had designed a route.
First, discredit my judgment.
Then marry Victoria to me.
Then trigger incapacity.
Then control the board.
If something later happened to me, Leo inherited assets but Victoria controlled the child and Grant controlled the trust.
Perfect.
Except Victoria had become unpredictable.
According to her second statement, she started resisting Grant six months into our relationship.
Not because she suddenly became noble.
Because she loved Leo.
And, she claimed, because she loved me.
I didn’t know whether that made things better or worse.
At one in the morning, Sarah finally allowed Victoria to speak with me.
Not privately.
Interview room.
Recorder on.
Attorney present.
Victoria sat across the table in borrowed clothes.
Her wedding dress had been taken as evidence because her phone had been found inside its garment bag earlier.
Without makeup, she looked younger.
Exhausted.
Human.
I hated that she looked human.
“Julian.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“I’m trying.”
“Start at the beginning.”
She looked at Sarah.
Then back at me.
“Grant and I met three years ago.”
She explained.
At first, he was charming.
Generous.
He paid her rent when her mother became ill.
Helped with medical bills.
Then the relationship changed.
He controlled money.
Tracked her location.
Threatened to expose private photographs.
Threatened her job.
I listened.
None of it erased what she did to me.
But truth did not need to be comfortable to be true.
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“After Emma died.”
My jaw tightened.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I couldn’t look at him anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought he might have done something.”
Sarah said, “Something to Emma?”
Victoria nodded.
My hands clenched.
“What did you know?”
“Grant wanted access to Emma’s schedule. He kept asking when she was alone. What medications she took. Which doctors were on call.”
“And you gave him that information.”
Victoria started crying.
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
“You gave him my pregnant wife’s medical information?”
“I thought he wanted to know when she planned to confront you about the theft.”
“Why would he need her medications?”
“I didn’t understand that until later.”
I stood so fast the chair struck the wall.
Sarah rose too.
“Julian.”
I walked away.
Victoria sobbed.
“I am sorry.”
I turned.
“Do you know what I was doing while my wife died?”
Her face collapsed.
“I was holding her hand.”
My voice broke.
“She was scared.”
No one spoke.
“She kept apologizing because she thought she was leaving me alone with Leo.”
Victoria covered her mouth.
“And you knew the man who might have caused it.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You suspected.”
“After.”
“And instead of telling me, you dated me.”
“Grant made me.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“He threatened you. He manipulated you. Fine. I can understand fear.”
I pointed at her.
“But you walked into my life. You held my son. You accepted my ring. Every single day, you chose not to tell me.”
She whispered, “Yes.”
Finally.
No excuse.
Just yes.
I sat again.
“Why warn Emma?”
Victoria wiped her face.
“Because I found out what Grant was doing with the company.”
“Why anonymously?”
“I was terrified.”
“What happened after Emma died?”
“I confronted him.”
“And?”
“He said accidents happen.”
The same phrase.
My stomach turned.
“What exactly did he say?”
Victoria closed her eyes.
“He said, ‘You wanted me to fix it. I fixed it.’”
Sarah leaned forward.
“Did you ever tell him to hurt Emma?”
“No!”
Victoria shook violently.
“I meant the fraud. I wanted him to stop stealing before she exposed him.”
“Then why stay silent?”
“Because he told me if I went to police, he would tell them I helped.”
“You did help.”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“That’s why I thought nobody would believe me.”
I stared at her.
“Then he sent you to me.”
She nodded.
“He said if I married you, we could stabilize everything.”
“Meaning steal everything.”
“At first, yes.”
The honesty hurt.
“When did that change?”
Victoria looked down.
“The night Leo got sick.”
I remembered.
He was six months old.
High fever.
I panicked.
Victoria sat with him for hours while I paced.
“He reached for me,” she said.
Her voice cracked.
“And I realized what we were doing.”
“We?”
“Me. Grant.”
She swallowed.
“I realized Leo wasn’t an inheritance. He was a baby.”
I nearly laughed at the absurdity of that sentence.
“You needed six months to discover that?”
“I know how horrible that sounds.”
“It sounds accurate.”
“I started secretly copying Grant’s messages.”
That caught everyone’s attention.
Sarah said, “Where?”
Victoria looked at me.
“In the lining of my wedding dress.”
I stared.
“The dress police took?”
She nodded.
“There’s a second phone sewn into the inner hem.”
Sarah stood immediately.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because I didn’t trust anyone.”
“You’re telling us now.”
Victoria looked at me.
“Because there’s one recording Julian needs to hear.”
My throat tightened.
“What recording?”
May you like
She whispered:
“Grant talking about the night Emma died.”
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