Chapter 4
Daniel Cross wasn't difficult to find.
His name appeared in several business records.
He was thirty-eight years old.
A self-described luxury investment consultant.
He drove expensive cars.
Wore designer suits.
And posted photographs of private parties on social media.
At first glance, he looked successful.
But Patricia quickly noticed inconsistencies.
His companies changed names frequently.
Several had been dissolved.
And one business had been involved in a civil dispute over unpaid investors.
My father studied the records.
"I've seen men like this before."
I looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"People who sell the appearance of wealth before they've earned any."
I nodded slowly.
Patricia continued reviewing the documents.
Then she looked up.
"Marcus, there's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Vanessa and Daniel appear to have known each other for several years."
I stared at her.
"How many?"
"At least four."
I felt sick.
Vanessa and I had been together for three.
That meant Daniel had been part of her life before I ever met her.
I thought about the night we first met.
A charity gala.
Vanessa had walked toward me wearing a beautiful red dress.
She'd smiled.
Complimented my speech.
Asked thoughtful questions about my father's company.
I'd been impressed.
She seemed ambitious.
Intelligent.
Confident.
I fell for her quickly.
Now I wondered whether our meeting had been as accidental as I'd believed.
My father noticed my expression.
"Marcus?"
I looked at him.
"Do you think she planned this from the beginning?"
He hesitated.
"I don't know."
I looked away.
He continued.
"But I think we need to prepare ourselves for uncomfortable answers."
I nodded.
Patricia advised us not to contact Daniel directly.
She explained that the attempted transfer and disputed authorization were being reviewed.
We needed to preserve evidence.
Avoid confrontation.
And let investigators follow the financial records.
I agreed.
But staying calm was difficult.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Vanessa laughing in the ballroom.
Then I remembered her whispering that I should never forget what we'd signed.
I felt foolish.
Used.
And ashamed.
Nia noticed.
During my afternoon therapy session, I struggled to concentrate.
She stopped the exercise.
"Marcus, what's wrong?"
I stared at the floor.
"Everything."
She sat nearby.
I looked at her.
"Have you ever trusted someone so completely that you ignored every warning?"
She considered the question.
"Yes."
I looked surprised.
She gave a small smile.
"Most people have, at some point."
I swallowed.
"I thought Vanessa loved me."
Nia nodded.
"That's what you believed."
I looked down.
"Maybe I was stupid."
She shook her head.
"Trusting someone doesn't make you stupid."
I looked at her.
"But refusing to see what they're showing you can keep you trapped."
Her words stayed with me.
I realized I'd spent years excusing Vanessa's behavior.
When she mocked waiters, I told myself she was stressed.
When she dismissed my father's advice, I called it independence.
When she complained that charity events weren't glamorous enough, I assumed she was joking.
I'd ignored the way she treated people.
Because she treated me differently.
At least when she wanted something.
The next morning, Patricia called.
"Marcus, we have an update."
I sat straighter.
"What happened?"
"The bank confirmed the transfer remains blocked."
I exhaled.
"Good."
"We've also identified the authorized signers listed for Silver Crown Holdings."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Vanessa and Daniel?"
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
Then she continued.
"There's evidence of correspondence between them concerning your investment account."
I looked up.
"What kind?"
"Messages discussing how to obtain access to the funds."
I felt cold.
"Can we see them?"
"Once the records are properly obtained and reviewed."
I nodded.
Patricia continued.
"And Marcus, there's something important you should know."
I waited.
"Vanessa has contacted the bank claiming that you are medically unable to manage your financial affairs."
I stared at the wall.
"What?"
My father, who was sitting beside me, looked up.
I put the call on speaker.
Patricia repeated it.
Vanessa had submitted a statement suggesting my injuries affected my ability to make decisions.
I couldn't believe it.
"She knows I'm recovering."
Patricia nodded.
"Yes."
"She saw me stand."
"Yes."
I clenched my jaw.
"Then why would she do this?"
"Because she may believe it strengthens her claim to authority."
My father looked furious.
"That's outrageous."
Patricia remained calm.
"We're addressing it."
She explained that my medical condition didn't automatically remove my right to make financial decisions.
Any claim of incapacity would require proper legal and medical evaluation.
I felt a little relief.
But the cruelty of Vanessa's plan stunned me.
She'd mocked my wheelchair in public.
Then tried to use my medical history to gain control of my money.
She wanted me helpless when it benefited her.
And worthless when it didn't.
That evening, I received a message from her.
"Marcus, we need to talk like adults."
I stared at the screen.
Another message appeared.
"You embarrassed me in front of everyone."
I laughed bitterly.
Then a third message arrived.
"I can explain the investment documents."
I almost responded.
But Patricia had advised me to communicate through attorneys.
I forwarded the messages instead.
A few minutes later, my phone rang.
Vanessa.
I let it ring.
Then she called again.
And again.
Finally, she left a voicemail.
Her voice sounded different.
No arrogance.
No laughter.
Just panic.
"Marcus, please. Daniel is threatening me."
I sat straighter.
She continued.
"He says if I don't get the money, he'll destroy everything."
My stomach tightened.
Then she whispered something that made my blood run cold.
"Marcus, I think he arranged your accident."
I stared at the phone.
My heart began pounding.
My accident.
The crash that nearly took my ability to walk.
The crash that changed everything.
Could it have been more than an accident?
I immediately called Patricia.
May you like
Because if Vanessa was telling the truth, Daniel hadn't simply tried to steal my money.
He might have tried to destroy my life.
