Chapter 2 - The Friend Who Refused to Help Me
Marcus looked at me as though I had asked him to commit a crime.
“You want to know whether Claire is safe?” he asked. “Then start by asking yourself what she needed protection from.”
I stared at him.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He walked past me into the living room, picked up one of the whiskey glasses, and examined the lipstick on its rim.
“Was Madison here?”
I said nothing.
Marcus placed the glass down.
“Unbelievable.”
“Don't start.”
“Your wife spent years trying to save your marriage, and you brought another woman into her home.”
“She already divorced me.”
“Did you know that when you brought Madison here?”
I looked away.
“No.”
“Then don't use the divorce to excuse what you did.”
His words struck harder because Marcus had never been particularly interested in moral lectures.
He was a commercial attorney, a man who could negotiate hostile acquisitions while eating a sandwich and make billionaires apologize for wasting his time.
He had also stood beside me when Claire and I exchanged our vows.
“You knew she was unhappy,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“She told you herself.”
I remembered Claire asking me to attend counseling.
I remembered telling her we were too busy.
I remembered her sitting across from me at dinner, saying she felt lonely even when I was home.
I had answered an email while she spoke.
Marcus watched recognition move across my face.
“She came to my office eight months ago,” he said.
My stomach dropped.
“For what?”
“She wanted advice about finding an attorney. I told her I couldn't represent her because of my relationship with you.”
“You should have called me.”
“And told you what? That your wife was finally considering the consequences of your behavior?”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Did she tell you about Madison?”
Marcus nodded.
“She didn't know her name then. But she knew there was someone.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“She cried?” I asked.
Marcus looked at me for a long moment.
“Not in my office.”
Somehow, that was worse.
“She was calm,” he continued. “Asked intelligent questions. Took notes. Thanked me for my time.”
He paused.
“Then she asked whether a woman could rebuild her credit independently after spending years trusting her husband to handle everything.”
I closed my eyes.
Claire had once been an architect.
A good one.
She had worked at a respected Chicago firm when we met, designing public libraries and community centers.
After my company expanded, she began helping me organize corporate events, entertain investors, and coordinate charitable partnerships.
Eventually, she stopped practicing architecture.
I told everyone it was her choice.
Maybe it had been, initially.
But I had made returning to work seem unnecessary, inconvenient, even disloyal.
“You have everything you need,” I used to tell her.
I never asked whether she still had anything that belonged entirely to her.
Marcus reached into his coat and removed a folded document.
“This arrived at my office yesterday.”
My pulse accelerated.
“From Claire?”
“From her attorney. It's a copy of a notice that was also sent to your legal department.”
He handed it to me.
It concerned the dissolution of the Claire Morgan Foundation, a charitable initiative I had proudly announced at a company gala three years earlier.
Claire had chaired the foundation.
I had provided its initial funding.
At least, that was what I believed.
The document stated that Claire had resigned as chairwoman and transferred the foundation's independent projects to a newly established nonprofit.
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because you haven't attended a foundation meeting in eleven months.”
I scanned the document.
Then I saw the signature.
Claire Bennett.
Not Morgan.
My hands went cold.
“She changed her name.”
Marcus said nothing.
“She really changed it.”
“Daniel, she changed more than that.”
I looked up.
“What?”
He hesitated.
“Do you remember the Riverside Community Center project?”
“Of course. We donated two million dollars.”
“No. Your company pledged two million. Claire secured most of the matching commitments, negotiated the land agreement, and personally developed the architectural concept.”
“That project was abandoned.”
“That's what you were told.”
I frowned.
Marcus continued.
“Claire discovered that money allocated for the project had been redirected into a consulting arrangement.”
“Redirected by whom?”
“Your company.”
“That isn't possible.”
“Then you should examine your books.”
I almost laughed.
“Are you suggesting someone stole charitable funds?”
“I'm suggesting you haven't been paying attention to anything that doesn't directly increase your company's valuation.”
I called my chief financial officer immediately.
Ethan Brooks answered on the second ring.
“Daniel?”
“I need the Riverside accounts.”
A pause.
“Why?”
“Because I'm asking.”
“Those files were closed last quarter.”
“Open them.”
Another pause.
“Daniel, there's something you should know before—”
The call disconnected.
I stared at the screen.
Marcus watched me.
“What happened?”
“He hung up.”
“No,” Marcus said quietly. “Someone probably told him to.”
My phone vibrated.
A message from Ethan.
Do not discuss Riverside over company communications.
A second message arrived.
Your wife discovered something six months ago.
Then a third.
I think that's why she really left.
I read the messages twice.
“Marcus.”
He stepped closer.
I showed him the screen.
His expression changed.
For the first time that afternoon, he looked genuinely afraid.
“Daniel,” he said, “don't call anyone else.”
“Why?”
“Because if Ethan is telling the truth, your marriage may not be the only thing you've lost.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice spoke.
“Mr. Morgan, my name is Rebecca Shaw. I'm representing your former wife.”
I stood perfectly still.
“Where is Claire?”
“I'm not calling to discuss her location.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because someone attempted to access her sealed legal records this morning using credentials associated with your company.”
I looked toward Marcus.
Rebecca continued.
“Claire instructed me to warn you once. If you attempt to locate her through corporate resources, we'll seek immediate legal protection.”
“I didn't access anything.”
“Then you have a serious problem.”
“What problem?”
“Someone inside your company is trying to find her.”
The line went silent for a moment.
May you like
Then Rebecca added:
“And Mr. Morgan? Whoever it is appears to have been tracking her long before the divorce.”
