Chapter 13
Naomi would not allow us to open the flash drive on my computer.
She took it to a forensic specialist.
For six hours, we waited.
Marcus sat in my living room under Elise's supervision.
Nobody offered him coffee.
My mother tried once.
Elise said, “He can survive.”
Marcus deserved worse.
But I needed information.
“Why did you copy Grant's files?”
He stared at the floor.
“Insurance.”
“Against him?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“About two months ago.”
“So while you were helping him betray me, you were preparing to betray him too.”
His jaw tightened.
“When you say it like that—”
“How else should I say it?”
He had no answer.
My mother sat near the window.
She looked ten years older than she had before Everly was born.
For once, she did not interrupt.
Marcus rubbed his hands together.
“I knew Grant wasn't trustworthy.”
“And yet you partnered with him.”
“I thought I could control how far it went.”
I laughed.
“That sentence should be engraved on your tombstone.”
He flinched.
Good.
“What was the plan?” I asked.
“I didn't know all of it.”
“What did you know?”
“He wanted the trust finalized before filing for divorce.”
“Why?”
“He believed that once the money legally transferred, he could pressure you into signing a marital settlement.”
“How?”
“Custody. The house. Public embarrassment.”
The four words in the notebook.
“Insurance?”
Marcus looked away.
“I don't know.”
I stood.
He spoke quickly.
“I swear.”
“You already lied once.”
“I never agreed to hurt you physically.”
The fact that he said physically made my blood go cold.
“What did you agree to?”
“Financial pressure.”
“What does that mean?”
“He planned to transfer money from his business accounts and blame you.”
We already knew that.
“He planned to claim I stole seventy-five thousand.”
Marcus nodded.
“He also wanted to report you for exposing classified information.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He wanted to say you discussed sensitive work at home.”
“That is false.”
“I know.”
“Did you agree to support that?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him it was wrong?”
Marcus remained silent.
I moved closer.
“Did you?”
“No.”
My hands trembled.
My mother stood.
“Tessa—”
“Please don't.”
She stopped.
I looked at Marcus.
“You knew he planned to attack my career.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he planned to use my daughter.”
“I didn't know how serious—”
“Stop saying that.”
My voice cracked.
“You knew enough.”
He looked ashamed.
I wanted him to hurt.
Then Everly cried upstairs.
The sound pulled me away from him.
I went to her.
When I returned twenty minutes later, Naomi had arrived.
Her face told me the flash drive mattered.
“Everyone sit.”
We did.
“The drive contains copies of Grant's planning documents, financial records, emails, and audio.”
My stomach tightened.
“Audio?”
“Calls.”
Marcus looked down.
“He recorded everything.”
Naomi continued.
“Some files are corrupted. Some may have been altered. We need authentication before relying on any of it.”
“What did you hear?”
“One recording between Grant and Marcus.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
Naomi looked at him.
“You want to disclose it?”
He shook his head.
“You do it.”
She pressed play.
Grant's voice filled the room.
“If she gets scared about losing the baby, she'll sign.”
Marcus answered.
“What if she doesn't?”
“She will.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Tessa's entire identity is protecting people. You threaten the baby, she folds.”
I felt like I had been struck.
Grant knew me.
That was the horror.
He had understood something true.
Then weaponized it.
The recording continued.
Marcus asked, “What if the court doesn't buy it?”
Grant laughed.
“I don't need to win custody. I just need her to believe I might.”
My mother started crying silently.
I could not look at her.
Then Marcus's recorded voice said, “And the insurance?”
The room froze.
Grant responded.
“Forget insurance. Too messy.”
Marcus said, “You brought it up.”
“I was thinking out loud.”
“What were you thinking?”
A long silence.
Then Grant answered.
“If she had complications, everything would have been simpler.”
I stopped breathing.
My mother gasped.
Elise cursed.
Marcus looked sick.
On the recording, he asked, “What the hell does that mean?”
Grant replied, “It means nothing. Drop it.”
Naomi stopped the audio.
The room stayed silent.
My entire body shook.
“He knew I had medical risks.”
“Yes,” Naomi said.
“He tracked my appointments.”
“Yes.”
“He refused to take me to the hospital.”
“Tessa.”
“He put me outside in a storm.”
“Tessa.”
I stood.
“What if that wasn't just cruelty?”
Naomi rose too.
“We do not know.”
“But what if—”
“We give the recording to law enforcement.”
My chest tightened until I could barely breathe.
Elise took my shoulders.
“Look at me.”
I did.
“Everly is safe.”
I nodded.
“You are safe.”
I tried to believe her.
“Grant is not here.”
Another nod.
“Breathe.”
I did.
Slowly.
The panic receded.
My mother approached carefully.
“Tessa.”
I looked at her.
Her face was white.
“I told him about your blood pressure.”
The room went quiet.
“What?”
“A month before delivery.”
Her voice broke.
“He asked whether pregnancy was hard on you. I told him the doctor was monitoring you.”
My anger returned so fast it almost burned.
“You gave him that too?”
“I didn't know.”
“No. You didn't ask.”
She cried harder.
“I know.”
For years, my mother's tears had controlled every room.
Not intentionally.
But everyone rushed to comfort her.
This time nobody moved.
She had to stand in the discomfort she created.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered.
I could not answer.
Naomi's phone rang.
She stepped away.
When she returned, her expression had changed.
“The financial crimes investigator wants Grant brought in for questioning.”
“Will they arrest him?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because suspicion isn't enough.”
I hated the answer.
But I understood it.
Then Naomi added, “There's one more thing from the flash drive.”
I braced myself.
“Grant had a spreadsheet of projected divorce outcomes.”
Of course he did.
“In one scenario, he listed a settlement amount beside custody.”
“How much?”
“Five million.”
My stomach twisted.
“What about another scenario?”
Naomi looked at me.
“No divorce.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
She turned the laptop.
The row read:
Scenario C — T deceased before distribution challenge closes.
Projected spouse control: maximum.
I stared at the words.
Nobody spoke.
Then Marcus whispered, “I never saw that.”
May you like
I looked at him.
For once, I believed him.
