Chapter 3 - Six Weeks of Lies
I spent the night reading every page in the file.
By sunrise, I understood the first layer of Grant's plan.
He wanted temporary custody of Ellie.
Then he wanted to become her financial guardian.
Once appointed, he would gain access to the accounts held for her benefit.
The trust was protected by layers of legal restrictions.
But guardianship would give him influence.
Influence could become leverage.
Leverage could become control.
The numbers were staggering.
The Bluebird trust was connected to controlling shares in six major companies.
It held properties.
Investment funds.
Private equity interests.
Intellectual property.
Most of it had been invisible to the public.
Even I had not known the full extent.
My father had kept it hidden because he believed secrecy was the only protection strong enough.
I found another document.
This one contained Grant's name.
He had been researching Bluebird for years.
There were records of meetings with financial advisers.
Emails to private investigators.
Payments to former employees.
And then I saw Vanessa Reed's name.
The blonde woman in the gold dress.
My husband's mistress.
She was not just his lover.
She was an employee of Mercer Holdings.
Worse, she had accessed restricted information about Ellie.
School records.
Travel schedules.
Medical information.
Security protocols.
Everything.
I felt something inside me turn cold.
“She studied my daughter.”
Arthur nodded.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Four months.”
I closed the folder.
“Find her.”
“We will.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I want every message she sent.”
Arthur hesitated.
“Mara.”
“Every one.”
He nodded.
A few minutes later, another file arrived.
Inside was a transcript of a conversation between Grant and Vanessa.
The mother is the obstacle.
She'll break.
What if she doesn't?
Then we make the court break her.
I stopped reading.
I couldn't breathe.
I had spent seven years loving a man who had been studying my weaknesses.
I had defended him to my friends.
I had defended him to my father.
I had defended him when my instincts told me something was wrong.
And while I was doing all of that, Grant was preparing to destroy me legally.
Then I found one final line.
Do not transfer Bluebird until the child is under our control.
Our.
Not his.
The plan was larger than Grant.
I picked up my phone.
“Arthur.”
“Yes?”
“Who else is behind this?”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said the one thing I was not prepared to hear.
May you like
“We don't know yet.”
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