Chapter 8 - My Wife’s Version of Marriage
Vanessa requested to speak with me.
Maya Chen, my divorce attorney, advised against it.
Detective Brooks wanted the meeting recorded.
I agreed.
Vanessa entered the interview room wearing county clothing.
She still managed to sit like the most important person present.
“You left me alone for eight months,” she said.
“I called every day.”
“You asked about schedules.”
“Expenses.”
“Your mother.”
“You never asked whether I was happy.”
“Were you happy while hitting her?”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
“She judged me from the beginning.”
“She knew what you were doing.”
“She controlled you.”
“No.”
“She saw you.”
For years, Vanessa had described Mom’s caution as hostility.
She told me older women resented younger wives.
She said every question about money was an attack on our marriage.
I had chosen peace over investigation.
Vanessa leaned forward.
“Charles understood me.”
“He understood your access.”
“You think he used me?”
“He left you in the house when the police arrived.”
“He will come back.”
“No.”
“He will replace you.”
That possibility frightened her more than prison.
She revealed Charles had a second partner inside Ross Energy.
Someone with authority over cybersecurity and board communications.
The insider had helped schedule the false board vote.
He had also given Charles my refinery credentials.
Vanessa claimed she did not know the name.
She knew the code phrase.
North Star.
Our chief technology officer, Nathan Starling, had served the company for fourteen years.
My father trusted him.
I trusted him.
His surname was Starling.
The clue felt too obvious.
Detective Brooks checked his access.
Nathan had approved several suspicious downloads.
He had also entered company headquarters the night before the board request.
Police went to his home.
They found him unconscious in the garage.
A hose ran from his vehicle’s exhaust.
A typed confession rested on the seat.
It claimed he worked alone.
It blamed financial pressure.
It cleared Charles and Vanessa.
Nathan survived.
May you like
At the hospital, he whispered one sentence.
“Charles made me write it.”
