Chapter 3
I closed the mansion doors.
The party was over before it truly started.
Some guests complained.
Most disappeared the moment they realized lawyers might become involved.
I didn't care.
Within thirty minutes, my marble terrace was almost empty.
Vanessa remained.
Marcus had told security not to let her leave until police arrived.
She hated that.
"You can't detain me."
Derrick looked at Marcus.
Marcus answered calmly.
"Nobody's touching you."
Vanessa pointed toward the driveway.
"He's blocking my car."
"Because the police asked us to preserve the scene."
Her face tightened.
I stood at the dining table while Cynthia opened every event file she had.
The more we found, the worse it became.
Vanessa had changed vendor contracts.
Sponsor agreements.
Payment instructions.
Even temporary staff records.
She had built an entire second version of my charity event underneath the legitimate one.
Marcus placed another document in front of me.
"Look at this."
It was a management authorization for my mansion.
My name appeared at the bottom.
I stared at the signature.
It looked almost perfect.
But I knew my own hand.
"I didn't sign this."
Cynthia whispered,
"It was submitted yesterday."
"By who?"
"Vanessa's office."
I looked across the room.
Vanessa sat on the sofa with her arms folded.
She looked angry now.
Not ashamed.
Angry that we had interrupted her.
I carried the document over.
"What is this?"
She barely glanced at it.
"Standard management paperwork."
"With my forged signature?"
"You gave me authority."
"No."
"You told me to handle the event."
"That doesn't give you authority over my property."
She rolled her eyes.
"Nia, stop pretending you're some helpless victim."
I stared at her.
"That's interesting."
"What?"
"Because twenty minutes ago you were pretending I was nobody."
Her jaw tightened.
I sat across from her.
"Tell me the truth."
"I already did."
"No."
I placed the bank receipt on the coffee table.
"Two hundred forty thousand."
Then the forged authorization.
"My house."
Then the altered guest list.
"Paid invitations."
I leaned forward.
"What were you really doing?"
Vanessa looked toward Marcus.
He stood near the window.
"Why is he here?"
I almost laughed.
"Still trying to control the room?"
"I'm asking a question."
"Marcus is here because he invested in tonight's event."
Vanessa looked at him.
"Or because he follows you everywhere."
Marcus didn't react.
But I understood what she was doing.
She wanted to create another argument.
Anything that moved attention away from her.
I leaned closer.
"This is about you."
She looked at me.
"Always has been."
Her voice changed.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
I waited.
She suddenly smiled.
A bitter smile.
"You walked into every room and people acted like you belonged there."
I frowned.
"You bought properties."
"Built your company."
"Got magazine covers."
"Got invited everywhere."
Her voice became sharper.
"And you still acted like none of it mattered."
I stared at her.
"So you stole from me because you were jealous?"
She laughed.
"You really think this is about jealousy?"
"What is it about?"
"Opportunity."
That word chilled me.
Police arrived moments later.
Detective Simone Carter introduced herself.
She was calm, direct, and clearly uninterested in social drama.
I gave her everything.
Emails.
Lists.
Receipts.
Messages.
The forged property document.
Vanessa immediately asked for an attorney.
Smartest thing she'd done all evening.
But before she stopped talking, Detective Carter asked one important question.
"Ms. Cole, who prepared the property transfer?"
Vanessa's eyes flicked toward me.
Then she said,
"My lawyer."
"Name?"
Silence.
Her attorney hadn't arrived yet.
She looked down.
Detective Carter repeated,
"Who prepared it?"
Vanessa smiled.
"I think I'll wait."
That told me she wasn't working alone.
The police didn't arrest her immediately.
Not enough had been verified.
But they took copies of the documents.
Vanessa finally left with her lawyer just after sunset.
Before she got into the car, she looked back at me.
"You think you won."
I stood beneath the terrace lights.
"This isn't a game."
Her smile was cold.
"That's what you don't understand."
Then she drove away.
Marcus waited until the car disappeared.
"She's scared."
I shook my head.
"No."
"What?"
"She's angry."
He looked at me.
"That's worse."
He was right.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I stayed in the office while Cynthia and the accounting team reviewed transactions.
At eleven thirty, we found the first major connection.
Cole Luxury Events had received money from nine people Vanessa added to the guest list.
Total:
$267,000.
But only $240,000 had reached the account on the receipt.
The rest had been split between two other accounts.
One belonged to a company called VCR Holdings.
The second belonged to someone whose name I recognized immediately.
Trevor Lane.
My property attorney.
I stared at the screen.
"No."
Marcus came behind me.
"What?"
I pointed.
His expression changed.
Trevor had handled three of my major real-estate purchases.
Including the mansion.
He had access to property records.
My signature files.
Ownership documents.
Everything Vanessa would need.
I called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Marcus tried.
Straight to voicemail.
At midnight, Detective Carter called us back.
"We ran the management document."
"And?"
"The notary stamp is registered."
My stomach dropped.
"To who?"
"Trevor Lane's office."
I closed my eyes.
Marcus cursed.
Detective Carter continued.
"We're trying to contact him."
"So are we."
She paused.
"Nia, do not sign anything."
"I won't."
"Do not approve transfers."
"I understand."
"And check your other properties."
My eyes opened.
"What?"
"If someone forged authorization for one property, we need to determine whether this is isolated."
Marcus looked at me.
I had eleven properties.
Three apartment buildings.
Two commercial complexes.
Several residential investments.
My company headquarters.
And the mansion.
I opened my laptop.
My hands started shaking.
One by one, I pulled ownership records.
Nothing obvious.
Then I opened the account for a downtown commercial building.
A pending management change appeared.
Effective Monday.
Same management company.
VCR Holdings.
I checked another property.
Same thing.
Then another.
Same.
My throat tightened.
"Marcus."
He stepped closer.
"What?"
I turned the screen toward him.
Vanessa hadn't been trying to take control of one mansion.
May you like
Someone was preparing to take control of almost my entire portfolio.
And every transfer carried my signature.
