Chapter 6
Three days later, Detective Harris asked me to come to the station.
My father drove.
Nia had encouraged me to use the wheelchair for longer outings while my stamina improved.
I agreed.
Not because I couldn't walk.
But because recovery wasn't something I wanted to rush.
When we arrived, Detective Harris led us into a quiet conference room.
He looked serious.
"Marcus, thank you for coming."
I nodded.
"Did you find Daniel?"
He sat down.
"We've confirmed that Daniel Cross had a connection to the rental company associated with the vehicle involved in your crash."
My stomach tightened.
"What kind of connection?"
"Records indicate he arranged access to the vehicle through an associate."
I stared at him.
My father leaned forward.
"Does that mean Daniel was driving?"
"Not necessarily."
The detective continued.
"We're still determining who was behind the wheel and what happened before the collision."
I nodded.
He showed us several documents.
Rental records.
Vehicle information.
A timeline.
Then he explained that investigators were reviewing surveillance footage from nearby businesses.
I felt sick.
Everything was becoming more complicated.
The crash.
The money.
Vanessa.
Daniel.
The life I'd believed I was building suddenly looked like an elaborate lie.
Detective Harris continued.
"Marcus, we've also received information suggesting Daniel had significant financial problems."
I looked up.
"What kind?"
"Debts connected to failed business ventures."
I thought about Silver Crown Holdings.
The attempted transfer.
The luxury photographs on Daniel's social media.
It all began making sense.
He needed money.
Vanessa had access to me.
And someone had apparently decided my investment account was the solution.
The detective emphasized that motive wasn't proof.
I understood.
But my stomach turned anyway.
After the meeting, my father drove us home.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
Then he said, "Son, I should've listened when you told me Vanessa made you happy."
I looked at him.
"What?"
He sighed.
"I knew something wasn't right about her. But I didn't know how to make you see it."
I shook my head.
"Dad, you warned me."
He nodded.
"But I stopped trying because I didn't want to push you away."
I looked out the window.
"You didn't fail me."
He glanced toward me.
I continued.
"I made my own choices."
My father reached over and squeezed my shoulder.
"Then we'll make better ones now."
I nodded.
That evening, I asked Patricia to review my estate planning documents.
I wanted to make sure my assets were protected.
Not because I planned to become paranoid.
But because I finally understood how important it was to know what I was signing.
I also reviewed my personal accounts.
Changed passwords.
Updated security settings.
And confirmed that no one besides me had access to important financial information without proper authorization.
The process was exhausting.
But it gave me a sense of control.
Meanwhile, my physical recovery continued.
Nia worked with me during scheduled sessions.
She pushed me when I needed encouragement.
And reminded me to rest when I tried to prove too much.
One afternoon, I managed to walk the full length of my garden without assistance.
When I reached the end of the path, I stopped.
My legs were trembling.
But I was standing.
Nia smiled.
"How do you feel?"
I looked back toward the house.
"Like I just climbed a mountain."
She laughed.
"That's a good description."
I turned toward her.
"Thank you."
She shook her head.
"You did the work."
I smiled.
"But you believed I could."
Her expression softened.
"That's part of my job."
I nodded.
Then added, "You never made me feel like a burden."
She looked at me.
"Because you're not."
Those words stayed with me.
Later that evening, I sat alone in my office.
I looked at the photograph of Vanessa and me from our first anniversary.
We were standing beside the ocean.
She was smiling.
So was I.
I wondered whether she'd already been involved with Daniel then.
Whether she'd looked at me and seen a future.
Or simply a bank account.
I picked up the photograph.
Then placed it inside a drawer.
I wasn't ready to destroy the memories.
But I didn't want to keep staring at them either.
The next morning, Patricia called.
"Marcus, we have another development."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Vanessa has requested to speak with investigators through her attorney."
I sat straighter.
"About the money?"
"Possibly more."
I swallowed.
"Do you think she'll tell the truth?"
Patricia hesitated.
"I hope so. But we'll rely on evidence, not promises."
I nodded.
She continued.
"There's also a chance she'll try to minimize her own involvement."
I understood.
Vanessa had already shown how easily she could change her story.
I wasn't going to believe another performance without proof.
Two days later, Detective Harris contacted me.
"Marcus, Vanessa provided a statement."
I felt my heart pounding.
"What did she say?"
He paused.
"She admitted Daniel pressured her to obtain access to your investment funds."
I closed my eyes.
"And the accident?"
The detective became quiet.
Then he said, "She claims Daniel told her something would happen to make you more dependent on her."
My blood turned cold.
"What?"
"She says she didn't know the details."
I gripped the phone.
"Do you believe her?"
"We're investigating."
I nodded.
Then he continued.
"She also provided messages that may help establish the timeline."
I stared at the wall.
"Messages about the crash?"
"Potentially."
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I whispered, "Did she know I might be hurt?"
The detective answered carefully.
"That's one of the questions we're trying to resolve."
I ended the call.
Then sat in silence.
My hands were shaking.
I thought about the hospital.
Vanessa holding my hand.
Telling me she'd always be there.
Had she known more than she admitted?
Had she looked at my injured body and seen an opportunity?
I felt sick.
Then my phone rang again.
My father.
I answered.
"Dad?"
His voice was tense.
"Marcus, turn on the news."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Just do it."
I turned on the television.
A local news station was reporting on an investigation involving suspected financial fraud and a vehicle collision.
Then Daniel Cross's photograph appeared.
The reporter explained that authorities were seeking information from anyone who had done business with his companies.
My stomach tightened.
Then the screen changed.
A photograph of Vanessa appeared beside his.
The reporter mentioned suspected fraudulent investment transactions.
I stared at the television.
The story was public now.
I looked at my phone.
Messages were already arriving.
Friends.
Business associates.
Relatives.
Everyone wanted answers.
But I didn't have them.
Not yet.
Then a new message appeared.
It came from an unfamiliar number.
"Marcus, you don't know what Vanessa really did."
I stared at the screen.
Another message followed.
"Ask why she insisted on visiting you alone in the hospital."
My heart stopped.
Because suddenly, I remembered something.
Vanessa had asked the nurses to leave during one of her visits.
She'd told me she needed privacy.
Then she'd brought me papers to sign.
Papers I couldn't remember clearly because I was exhausted and in pain.
I looked toward the drawer containing our anniversary photograph.
And I realized the documents I'd signed before the accident might not have been the only ones.
May you like
Vanessa had been trying to gain access to my money while I lay in a hospital bed.
And I was about to find out how far she'd gone.
