Chapter 8 - The Divorce Hearing
By sunrise, every gossip page in Chicago had the story.
BILLIONAIRE ADRIAN CROSS FACES DIVORCE AMID FEDERAL MONEY-LAUNDERING INVESTIGATION.
The timing was perfect.
Too perfect.
Hart was attacking Adrian's reputation, his company and his marriage simultaneously.
Zara read one article twice.
It claimed she had discovered financial crimes and was cooperating with federal investigators against her husband.
“This is designed to make you think I betrayed you.”
Adrian stood beside the window.
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because you would tell me.”
She stared at him.
Two years earlier, he might not have said that.
“Thank you.”
He looked back.
“For what?”
“Trusting me.”
His expression softened.
“I should have started sooner.”
Their attorneys tried to cancel the fraudulent petition.
The court refused without Zara appearing personally because the filing contained her verified signature.
So she went.
The courthouse steps were packed.
Cameras flashed.
Reporters shouted.
“Mrs. Cross, are you divorcing your husband?”
“Did Adrian launder money?”
“Are you cooperating with federal authorities?”
Zara stopped.
Adrian quietly said, “You don't have to answer.”
“I know.”
She turned toward the cameras.
“No, I am not divorcing my husband today.”
Adrian looked at her.
Today.
He deserved that qualification.
Inside, their attorney demonstrated that Zara's signature had been copied from an earlier digital document.
The judge dismissed the filing.
Outside the courtroom, Zara saw someone she did not expect.
William Hart.
Seventy-one.
Silver-haired.
Elegant.
Smiling.
He approached as though attending church.
“Zara Bennett.”
“Cross.”
“Of course.”
His eyes moved toward Adrian.
“You look like Victor.”
“People keep insulting me that way.”
Hart smiled.
“Your father was difficult.”
“So am I.”
“I've heard.”
Hart looked at Zara.
“Your father was brilliant.”
Her body went still.
“You knew him.”
“Very well.”
“Did you kill him?”
People around them stopped moving.
Hart chuckled.
“What an extraordinary question.”
“It's simple.”
“No.”
Zara watched his eyes.
Not his mouth.
Her father had taught her that people prepared lies with their lips but reacted to truth with their eyes.
Hart was not afraid of the accusation.
Interesting.
“Did Richard Vale kill him?”
Something flickered.
There.
Fear.
Tiny.
Real.
Zara saw it.
So did Adrian.
Hart stepped closer.
“Be careful with old stories, Mrs. Cross. Sometimes the dead are kinder than the truth.”
He walked away.
That evening, Graham confronted the records.
Richard Vale had received five million dollars the week Thomas Bennett died.
But the money had not come from Hart.
It came from Victor Cross.
Adrian stared at the transaction.
“My father paid yours.”
Graham nodded grimly.
“Apparently.”
“To kill Thomas?”
“Maybe.”
Evan shook his head.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
“The date is wrong.”
Zara checked.
He was right.
Payment occurred the day after Thomas died.
Graham went still.
“Then it wasn't payment for murder.”
“What was it?” Adrian asked.
Graham stared at the number.
“Silence.”
He left and returned three hours later carrying an old metal box.
“My father kept this hidden.”
Inside were letters.
Richard Vale's handwriting.
One was addressed to Graham.
He read aloud.
Thomas is dead. Victor believes Hart ordered it. Hart believes Victor ordered it. Neither knows the truth. I do.
Everyone froze.
The next sentence changed everything.
Thomas Bennett was killed by someone inside his own investigation.
Marcus whispered, “A police officer.”
Graham continued.
Detective Samuel Reed.
Silence.
Then every eye turned toward Marcus.
Zara felt the room tilt.
“Reed?”
Marcus did not move.
Adrian's voice became dangerous.
“Marcus.”
The older man closed his eyes.
“Samuel was my brother.”
Zara stepped backward.
Marcus opened his eyes.
“He killed your father.”
Her hand covered her mouth.
“And when I discovered what he had done…”
May you like
Marcus's voice cracked.
“I killed him.”
