Chapter 3
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to tear apart every room in that mansion until I found something that explained how my life had become a nightmare.
But Mom was sitting beside me, trembling.
So I forced myself to stay calm.
"Where did Derek take you?"
She looked toward Detective Brooks.
Then she answered.
"An old rental house outside Covington."
I knew the area.
It was about an hour from Atlanta.
Several years earlier, my company had considered purchasing land nearby.
But we never completed the deal.
"Whose house?"
Mom swallowed.
"Vanessa's."
I stared at her.
"I didn't know she owned a house there."
"Neither did I."
Detective Brooks opened a notebook.
"We've established that the property was rented through a company controlled by Derek Lawson."
My stomach tightened.
Derek.
My security director.
The man who knew where every camera was installed.
The man who could access my home without attracting attention.
The man who had told me my mother was probably staying with relatives because she was upset about the marriage.
I felt physically sick.
Mom continued.
"When we arrived, I asked why Marcus wasn't there."
She looked away.
"Derek told me you were coming."
I clenched my fists.
"He was lying."
She nodded.
"He took my phone."
My heart sank.
"He said it was for privacy."
I watched tears gather in her eyes.
"Then Vanessa arrived."
I turned toward the hallway where the police had escorted my wife away.
I could barely comprehend it.
The woman I had married had allegedly helped confine my mother in a strange house.
The same woman who smiled beside me in wedding photographs.
The same woman who whispered that she couldn't wait to begin our life together.
"What did she want?" I asked.
Mom looked at me.
"She wanted the photographs I had taken of the documents."
I stared at her.
"Did you give them to her?"
"Not immediately."
My stomach twisted.
Mom explained that she had sent copies to an old friend named Helen Price before Derek arrived.
Helen was a retired accountant who had known our family for decades.
I remembered her.
She attended my father's funeral.
She sent birthday cards every year.
She had helped Mom organize tax records after Dad died.
Mom had contacted Helen because the company documents didn't make sense.
"Vanessa didn't know about Helen," Mom whispered.
I felt a small spark of relief.
Then Mom's expression changed.
"At first."
I swallowed.
"What happened?"
"She checked my messages."
Detective Brooks nodded.
"That led to threats against Mrs. Price. We have documented those communications."
I looked at Mom.
"Did they hurt Helen?"
"No. She contacted the police after receiving the messages."
My chest loosened slightly.
Mom continued.
"Vanessa kept asking where the original documents were."
I frowned.
"Original documents?"
"She thought I had taken paperwork from her handbag."
Mom shook her head.
"I only photographed what I saw."
I leaned back.
"Then why keep you there?"
Her eyes filled.
"Because I wouldn't promise to stay silent."
My throat tightened.
Mom explained that she had refused to sign a statement claiming she misunderstood the documents.
She demanded to speak with me.
Vanessa refused.
Derek allegedly kept the doors locked and monitored the property.
Mom said she was given food and water, but she wasn't allowed to leave.
When she tried to reach a window, she slipped and hurt her shoulder.
The bruises on her face came from a struggle near the doorway when she attempted to escape.
I closed my eyes.
"Mom, I'm so sorry."
She squeezed my hand.
"You didn't know."
"But I should have listened."
She looked at me for a long moment.
"Yes, Marcus."
The honesty hurt.
Then she continued.
"You should have listened."
I lowered my head.
"I know."
She touched my cheek.
"But right now, I need you to listen."
I looked up.
She took a slow breath.
"On the fourth night, Derek left the house."
My heart quickened.
"Why?"
"I don't know. Vanessa was supposed to come back later."
Mom explained that she discovered a loose panel near the back door.
She used a small metal tool from a kitchen drawer to release the interior latch.
Then she walked down a gravel road until she reached a gas station.
The employee called the police.
Mom was taken to a hospital.
Detective Brooks became involved after officers connected her account to the missing-person report I had filed.
Mom provided the photographs she had sent Helen.
She also revealed that she had secretly recorded one conversation with Vanessa.
I stared at her.
"How?"
Mom reached toward the black envelope Detective Brooks had collected.
"I had a little recorder in my handbag."
I remembered it.
My father had given Mom a digital recorder years earlier.
She used it for grocery lists and reminders.
I had teased her about refusing to use her phone.
Now that old habit had preserved something important.
"Vanessa didn't find it?"
Mom shook her head.
"She searched my phone and purse, but I had slipped it into the lining of my cardigan."
I felt my throat tighten.
My mother had been terrified.
Yet she had somehow managed to preserve evidence.
Detective Brooks explained that the recording was being examined.
Mom had participated in the conversation, which mattered when evaluating the recording under Georgia law.
Investigators had already listened to the relevant material and were working to authenticate it.
I looked at the detective.
"What does it say?"
She hesitated.
"Your mother can tell you the general substance, but we shouldn't play or distribute the original evidence casually."
I nodded.
Mom closed her eyes.
"Vanessa said she wasn't going to let one stubborn old woman ruin her future."
I stared at her.
"That's what she called you?"
Mom nodded.
"Then she said she had waited too long to become Mrs. Marcus Carter."
I felt disgusted.
"She wanted the money."
Mom looked at me.
"She wanted more than money."
My heartbeat quickened.
"What?"
She swallowed.
"She wanted control of your company."
I stared at her.
"How?"
"She believed the marriage would give her access to information and influence she couldn't obtain before."
I rubbed my forehead.
Mom continued.
"She said Derek had already prepared the necessary documents."
I felt cold.
"Documents for what?"
Mom's voice broke.
"For a transfer of control if you became unavailable to manage the business."
I stared at her.
"Unavailable?"
Mom nodded.
"That's the word she used."
A terrible silence followed.
I thought about the wedding.
The honeymoon.
The private flight Vanessa had arranged for the following week.
The insurance papers she had repeatedly asked me to review.
I had assumed she was being responsible.
Now every memory felt contaminated.
Detective Brooks spoke carefully.
"We are investigating the purpose of those documents. We don't yet have grounds to conclude every step of the plan."
I nodded.
But I couldn't stop shaking.
Then my phone rang.
The caller was my chief financial officer, David Harris.
I answered immediately.
"David?"
His voice was tense.
"Marcus, I'm sorry to call so late."
"What happened?"
"We have a serious problem."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
"Someone attempted to initiate a transfer from the main holding company's reserve account."
I stood.
"How much?"
He hesitated.
"Eight million dollars."
I couldn't breathe.
"Who authorized it?"
May you like
David's answer made my blood run cold.
"According to the system, you did."
