Chapter 4 - The Woman in Red
Ethan stared at the photograph.
“That’s fake.”
Grace looked at him.
“Is that your professional assessment?”
“Martin hates Vanessa.”
“Apparently not enough to avoid private elevators with her.”
Ethan took Grace’s phone.
The image showed Martin Shaw clearly.
Silver hair.
Gray suit.
Distinctive gold watch.
Vanessa stood beside him carrying a leather document case.
Declan moved closer.
“Where was this taken?”
Ethan enlarged the background.
“Calloway Tower.”
Grace felt her stomach tighten.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
She put a hand beneath her belly.
Declan noticed immediately.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
Ethan noticed too.
For half a second, everything else disappeared from his face.
“Grace?”
“I’m fine.”
He stepped toward her.
She stepped back.
That hurt him.
She saw it.
She refused to feel guilty.
Rebecca’s phone rang.
She answered, listened, then looked at Grace.
“We found the amendment.”
“Where?”
“Filed with a private arbitration packet connected to the Mercer trust.”
“Who submitted it?”
Rebecca listened again.
Her expression changed.
“Martin Shaw’s outside counsel.”
Ethan went completely still.
Grace whispered, “Why would your chairman have my forged signature?”
Nobody answered.
Declan did what everyone else had forgotten to do.
He started connecting facts.
“Harbor Atlantic increases Calloway’s debt. Mercer shares secure part of the financing. A forged marital amendment gives Ethan expanded control over those assets. Someone steals the acquisition drive.”
Rebecca continued.
“And if the acquisition fails?”
Declan looked at Ethan.
“Calloway’s share price collapses.”
Ethan understood.
“Someone buys the company cheap.”
Declan nodded.
“Or forces it into a restructuring they already control.”
Grace looked at him.
“You?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Declan pulled out his phone.
“My debt purchases started eleven days ago after our analysts identified irregular trading around Calloway.”
He made a call.
“Find every entity accumulating Calloway equity, derivatives, or debt in the last six months. Beneficial owners, shell companies, everything.”
He hung up.
Ethan’s phone rang again.
Vanessa.
This time he answered.
“Where are you?”
Her voice was loud enough for Grace to hear.
“Ethan, someone was in the villa.”
“Where’s the drive?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why was it there?”
“You left your case.”
“I never put the drive in my case.”
Silence.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“Vanessa?”
“I thought you did.”
“Where are you?”
“Villa seven.”
“Stay there.”
“No.”
“Vanessa.”
“I’m leaving.”
The call ended.
Ethan headed toward the door.
Grace followed.
“Where are you going?”
“To find out what she knows.”
“You think she’s involved.”
“I don’t know what I think.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
Grace stopped.
Ethan turned.
She looked down at her stomach.
Then back at him.
“You lost the right to tell me what to do sometime between lying about New York and putting your hand on your vice president’s waist.”
Declan almost smiled.
Ethan did not.
“This could be dangerous.”
“Then perhaps you should have considered that before bringing corporate secrets to your affair.”
That landed.
Hard.
Thirty minutes later, they reached villa seven.
The door was open.
Ethan entered first.
“Vanessa?”
No answer.
The villa looked as if someone had searched it quickly.
Drawers open.
Cushions displaced.
Vanessa’s red dress lay on the floor near the bedroom.
Grace stared at it.
The same dress Vanessa had worn downstairs.
“Why would she change?”
Declan pointed toward the terrace.
A champagne glass had shattered.
Ethan entered the bedroom.
“Vanessa?”
Nothing.
Then Grace noticed a small metallic object beneath the dresser.
She bent carefully.
Declan stopped her.
“I’ll get it.”
He picked it up.
A USB drive.
Ethan grabbed it.
“That’s mine.”
Grace stared.
“You said it was missing.”
“It was.”
Declan looked toward the open terrace doors.
“Maybe somebody wanted you to think it was stolen.”
Ethan examined the drive.
A tiny scratch crossed the casing.
“No.”
“What?”
“This isn’t mine.”
He turned it over.
“My drive has an engraved serial number.”
This one had none.
A copy.
A decoy.
Grace’s phone buzzed.
Unknown number again.
This time the message contained an address.
And four words.
COME ALONE. ASK ABOUT ELEANOR.
Grace stopped breathing.
Eleanor.
Her mother.
Declan saw the name.
“Who is Eleanor?”
Grace looked at him.
“My mother.”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“Grace, no.”
“What?”
“Your mother knew Martin.”
Grace stared at him.
“How?”
Ethan sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
“Before we married, Martin was on the board of Mercer Capital.”
Grace felt the room tilt.
“My mother fired him.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“She told me.”
“When?”
“The week before our wedding.”
Grace stepped backward.
“Why have you never told me this?”
“Because she asked me not to.”
Grace laughed bitterly.
“How convenient.”
“It’s true.”
“Why did she fire him?”
Ethan looked at the fake drive in his hand.
“She thought he was stealing from Mercer.”
Silence.
“Did she prove it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Ethan’s next words changed everything.
“Because three days after she hired forensic accountants, your mother’s car went off a bridge.”
Grace stared at him.
“My mother died in an accident.”
“That’s what the police concluded.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying she didn’t believe it would be an accident.”
Grace’s eyes filled for the first time that night.
Not because of Ethan.
Not Vanessa.
Her mother.
“She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought she was frightened and paranoid.”
Grace moved closer.
“And now?”
Ethan looked at the forged signature.
Then the decoy drive.
Then the message on Grace’s phone.
“Now I think your mother was trying to warn us.”
A sound came from the terrace.
Everyone turned.
Declan moved in front of Grace instinctively.
Ethan crossed the room and pulled the curtain aside.
Nobody.
Only wind.
Then his phone rang.
Martin Shaw.
Ethan answered.
Martin’s voice was perfectly calm.
“Come back to New York.”
Ethan stared into the darkness.
“Where’s Vanessa?”
A pause.
Then Martin said:
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
“What question should I ask?”
Another pause.
May you like
“Ask your wife why her mother left her a second will.”
The line went dead.
