Chapter 2 - The Account With My Name on It
At 4:17 that afternoon, I walked into my attorney's office convinced the worst thing waiting for me was divorce.
I was wrong.
Daniel Price had represented my family for eleven years. He had negotiated acquisitions, lawsuits, employment disputes, and one ugly partnership breakup that nearly destroyed Carter Development.
I had never seen him look nervous.
He looked nervous now.
“Sit down, Marcus.”
“I don't want to sit down. Where's Claire?”
“I don't know.”
“You're my attorney.”
“And I'm telling you that you have a bigger problem.”
He pushed a folder across the desk.
I opened it.
Bank statements.
Wire transfers.
Credit-card records.
Corporate expense reports.
At first, I didn't understand what I was seeing.
Then I recognized Vanessa's apartment address.
“What is this?”
“The apartment you've been paying for.”
I looked up.
“I haven't been paying for Vanessa's apartment.”
Daniel said nothing.
I looked again.
The monthly payment was $14,800.
It had been categorized as executive housing for a consultant employed by Carter Development.
My mouth went dry.
“I told accounting to reimburse some of my expenses.”
“You told your CFO that Vanessa Cole was consulting on the Harbor Point acquisition.”
“She was helping me.”
“With what?”
I couldn't answer.
Daniel leaned back.
“Marcus, Vanessa received two hundred eighty-six thousand dollars from Carter Development over eight months.”
I stared at him.
“That isn't possible.”
“Your electronic authorization appears on every payment.”
I remembered Vanessa bringing documents into my office.
Expense approvals.
Vendor forms.
Reimbursement schedules.
I signed hundreds of things every month.
I had trusted her.
Daniel continued.
“Claire found the payments.”
“So?”
“So Claire owns thirty-two percent of Carter Development.”
I froze.
Claire had inherited shares from her father when he died. I knew that.
I had simply stopped thinking of them as hers.
Daniel tapped the documents.
“She also sits on the audit committee.”
A chill traveled through me.
“She reported the transfers?”
“Not yet.”
“Then stop her.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because she did something smarter.”
He pushed another page toward me.
Claire had requested a special board meeting.
Tomorrow morning.
Nine o'clock.
“She has supporting documentation suggesting company money was used to finance your affair.”
My chair suddenly felt too small.
“This is ridiculous. It's my company.”
Daniel's expression hardened.
“No, Marcus. That's exactly the attitude that got you here.”
I looked away.
He was right.
My father had founded Carter Development, but after his death, ownership had been divided among me, Claire, my sister, and several investors.
I was CEO.
I wasn't king.
“What happens tomorrow?”
“Potentially? You're suspended pending investigation.”
I laughed.
Nobody else did.
Then Daniel handed me another document.
This one wasn't corporate.
It was a life-insurance policy.
Noah Carter.
Beneficiary: Marcus Carter.
Policy value: five million dollars.
I stared at it.
“What the hell is this?”
“That's what Claire wants to know.”
“I've never seen this.”
“The application was submitted through your family office six weeks after Noah was born.”
My signature was at the bottom.
Except it wasn't my signature.
Not really.
It looked like mine.
But the final curve on the R was wrong.
“That's forged.”
Daniel nodded.
“We think so.”
I felt the first real fear of the day.
“Who submitted it?”
“We traced the paperwork to Vanessa.”
Everything inside me went silent.
“No.”
“She had access to your assistant's account. She also had access to scanned copies of your signature.”
I stood so quickly the chair rolled backward.
“You're saying Vanessa took out insurance on my son?”
“I'm saying someone did.”
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
Then Daniel gave me the final page.
A second policy.
Claire Carter.
Ten million dollars.
Same beneficiary.
Me.
Same questionable signature.
Same originating broker.
I couldn't breathe.
Daniel watched me carefully.
“Now you understand why Claire disappeared.”
I stared at the papers.
Claire hadn't simply discovered that I was cheating.
She had discovered documents that made it appear her cheating husband had secretly insured her life and their infant son's life for fifteen million dollars.
And then she had run.
From me.
“She thinks I did this.”
“Wouldn't you?”
That hurt because the answer was yes.
My phone rang.
Vanessa.
I stared at her name.
Daniel said, “Answer it.”
I put the phone on speaker.
“Marcus?” Vanessa's voice was soft. “Baby, I've been worried.”
My stomach turned at the word baby.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Stay there.”
A pause.
“Why?”
“I need to ask you something.”
“Ask me now.”
I looked at Daniel.
He shook his head.
“Later.”
Vanessa's voice changed.
Only slightly.
“Did Claire do something?”
That sentence landed differently now.
Not Did something happen?
Did Claire do something?
“What do you know about Claire leaving?”
Silence.
Then a laugh.
“Nothing. Why would I?”
I ended the call.
Daniel immediately said, “Do not go to her apartment.”
But I was already standing.
“Marcus.”
“She forged my signature.”
“Maybe. And if you're right, confronting her gives her time to destroy evidence.”
I stopped.
For the first time since finding Noah's empty crib, anger gave way to something worse.
Shame.
Claire had been sleeping beside a man who barely came home.
A man who lied casually.
A man who spent company money on another woman.
And when she found insurance policies carrying his name, she had no reason to believe he was innocent.
My own behavior had made the unbelievable believable.
“Can I call Claire?”
“You can.”
“She won't answer.”
“Then don't ask her to come back.”
I looked at him.
“What do I say?”
“The truth would be a revolutionary start.”
That evening, I returned to the empty Greenwich house.
I sat on the nursery floor.
For twenty minutes, I couldn't make myself speak.
Finally, I opened my phone and recorded a message.
“Claire... I know about the policies.”
My voice broke.
I started over.
“No. I'm not going to make excuses.”
I looked at the empty space where Noah's crib had stood.
“I cheated on you. I lied to you. I left you alone when you needed me. You had every reason to believe the worst of me.”
I swallowed.
“But I didn't take out those policies.”
Silence.
“I don't expect you to trust me.”
My eyes burned.
“I just need to know Noah is safe.”
I sent it.
No reply came.
Not that night.
Not the next morning.
At 8:43 a.m., I entered Carter Development's boardroom.
Claire's chair was empty.
Her attorney occupied it instead.
At exactly nine, the board voted.
Seven to two.
Effective immediately, I was suspended as CEO.
When I stepped into the hallway, reporters were already waiting downstairs.
Somebody had leaked the affair.
My company.
My marriage.
My reputation.
Everything was collapsing simultaneously.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
For one irrational second, I hoped it was Claire.
It wasn't.
There was only a photograph.
Claire walking through a parking garage with Noah against her chest.
Taken from behind.
Taken recently.
Beneath it were six words.
Tell your wife to stop digging.
And suddenly I understood something terrifying.
May you like
Claire hadn't disappeared only to leave me.
Someone was looking for her.
