Chapter 7 - THE MISTRESS AT MY DOOR
Vanessa arrived at the Whitmore townhouse at 3:38 a.m.
She looked completely different.
No cashmere coat.
No champagne.
No smug smile.
Just a frightened woman carrying an expensive handbag.
Margaret wanted security to turn her away.
I stopped them.
"Let her in."
Vanessa entered the library.
Her eyes moved from my father to Daniel to Margaret.
Then to me.
"I didn't know."
I remained seated.
"Didn't know what?"
"Who you were."
I almost smiled.
"Would that have stopped you from sleeping with my husband?"
Her face flushed.
"No."
At least she was honest.
"But I didn't know what he was doing."
"Which part?"
She swallowed.
"The company."
Margaret immediately stepped forward.
"Anything you say may become relevant to litigation."
Vanessa looked at her.
"I understand."
She placed her phone on the table.
"I have recordings."
Julian had apparently developed a habit of making promises while drinking.
Vanessa had developed a habit of recording them.
Margaret played the first file.
Julian's voice filled the room.
Once the old ownership structure is broken, nobody can touch me.
Another recording.
Elena doesn't understand business the way I do.
I stared at the table.
That one almost amused me.
Another.
By Christmas, Mercer International will control the crown properties.
Another.
Then Julian laughed.
Her family built the foundation.
I'm taking the building.
My father's expression turned murderous.
Vanessa stopped the recording.
"There's more."
"Why record him?"
I asked.
She hesitated.
"Insurance."
"Against what?"
"Against becoming you."
That answer surprised me.
Vanessa sat across from me.
"He started talking about you differently six months ago."
"How?"
"Like you were an obstacle."
My throat tightened.
"He said you had become suspicious."
"I wasn't."
"I know that now."
She looked ashamed.
"He told me you were trying to take Bellavue away from him."
"So you helped him humiliate me?"
Vanessa lowered her eyes.
"Yes."
"Why wear my coat?"
No answer.
"Why wear my grandmother's necklace?"
Her voice became barely audible.
"Because I wanted you to know he'd chosen me."
That hurt.
But not in the way she expected.
I looked at her.
"Vanessa, men like Julian don't choose women."
She slowly raised her eyes.
"They choose whatever makes them feel powerful."
Silence filled the room.
I pointed toward her phone.
"Tonight, that was you."
Vanessa nodded.
"And tomorrow?"
I looked toward the documents covering the table.
"Tomorrow, he may have nothing left to choose."
Margaret copied the recordings.
Then Vanessa remembered something.
"Wait."
She opened her handbag.
She removed a small flash drive.
"What's that?"
"Julian gave it to me in case he couldn't access his corporate account."
Nathan leaned forward.
"What's on it?"
"Documents he wanted Preston to receive before six."
Margaret plugged it into the secure laptop.
The first document appeared.
A signed authorization.
Then another.
Then an offshore banking instruction.
Nathan went pale.
"This isn't just contract diversion."
"What is it?"
"He planned to move twelve million dollars tonight."
My father stood.
"Where?"
"Cayman account."
Margaret looked at the clock.
3:56 a.m.
"Julian has thirty-four minutes before the board meeting."
Vanessa stared at me.
"What are you going to do?"
I stood.
For nine years, I had entered Bellavue boardrooms through side doors.
I had sat behind consultants.
I had allowed Julian to occupy the center seat.
Not today.
I picked up my grandmother's emerald pendant from the evidence bag.
Vanessa had returned it before entering.
I fastened it around my neck.
"What I should have done years ago."
My father smiled.
"Which is?"
May you like
I reached for my coat.
"Take my seat."
