Chapter 4 - The Secret Between Vanessa and DanielVanessa left the kitchen so quickly that she nearly collided with a chair.
“I need to get dressed.”
I stepped into her path.
“Why is GreenStone’s controller calling you at seven thirty in the morning?”
“It’s business.”
“You don’t work for GreenStone.”
“I help Ethan.”
“With what?”
“Events. Networking. Clients.”
“Bookkeeping?”
Her lips tightened.
“No.”
“Bank transfers?”
“No.”
“Electronic signatures?”
“Absolutely not.”
Ethan came around the island.
“Mom, enough.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
He touched my elbow.
I pulled away.
His hand dropped.
“What exactly are you afraid I’ll discover?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then you should welcome an audit.”
Vanessa laughed without humor.
“Oh, please. Nobody welcomes an audit.”
“Innocent people tend to sleep better during one.”
She walked upstairs.
Ethan followed seconds later.
Their bedroom door closed.
Then the arguing began.
Muffled at first.
Vanessa’s voice rose.
Ethan’s responded.
I couldn’t make out every word, but I heard enough.
“You promised she’d sign everything.”
“…not my fault…”
“…Daniel said…”
Then silence.
A door slammed.
I sat alone in the kitchen and stared at the rain.
For years, I had ignored warning signs because recognizing them would have required action.
There had always been an excuse.
When Vanessa redecorated the downstairs study without asking, I told myself young people liked making a house feel like home.
When Ethan stopped giving me quarterly company statements, I assumed he was busy.
When my accountant asked why household spending had increased by forty percent, I blamed inflation.
When Vanessa began receiving packages from boutiques where a single dress cost five thousand dollars, I decided it wasn’t my business.
Except apparently, I had been paying.
By nine, Richard arrived.
He brought a young forensic accountant named Olivia Chen.
Olivia looked no older than thirty-five, but within five minutes of opening her laptop, she had the focused expression of a surgeon.
We met in my late husband’s study.
Richard closed the door.
“What exactly did you tell Ethan?” he asked.
“That you found unauthorized transfers.”
“Did you give him account numbers?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Olivia looked up.
“We want to preserve the records before anyone alters them.”
“Can they?”
“If someone has administrator access, possibly.”
I thought of Daniel Mercer.
“Does the controller?”
“Yes.”
“Does Vanessa?”
Olivia hesitated.
“According to GreenStone’s user permissions, someone created a profile for V.P. Consulting.”
My stomach tightened.
“Vanessa Pierce.”
Ethan’s last name was Pierce.
“Yes.”
“She has a company?”
“Registered eighteen months ago.”
“What does it do?”
“Marketing consulting.”
I almost laughed.
Vanessa had never mentioned owning a company.
“How much has GreenStone paid it?”
Olivia turned her screen toward me.
The total displayed at the bottom made my throat dry.
$384,750.
“For what?”
“That’s what we need to determine.”
Richard leaned forward.
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
Olivia opened another spreadsheet.
“GreenStone paid V.P. Consulting approximately twenty-one thousand dollars per month for the first six months. The amount later increased.”
“Did Ethan approve it?”
“His digital credentials did.”
I stared at the numbers.
“Could someone else use them?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“Vanessa?”
“If she had Ethan’s password.”
I thought about their whispered argument upstairs.
“Keep going.”
Another transfer.
Another.
Money flowed from GreenStone to Vanessa’s company, then from her company to an investment account.
Olivia clicked again.
“This account purchased something.”
“What?”
“Real estate.”
My heart seemed to stop.
“Where?”
She enlarged the record.
A condominium in Miami.
Purchase price: $612,000.
Owner: V.P. Consulting LLC.
I sat back.
Vanessa had bought a condo.
With money from a business I financed.
Without telling Ethan?
Or with his permission?
Richard watched me carefully.
“Margaret?”
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
But anger has a remarkable ability to keep a person upright.
“Does Ethan know?”
“We can’t establish that from records.”
“Find out.”
Olivia nodded.
“There’s another issue.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Of course.”
She showed me several transfers from Alder Holdings.
My company.
Not Ethan’s.
Mine.
“These were initiated using your electronic approval token.”
I studied the dates.
One happened while I was in Charleston visiting my sister.
Another occurred during a weekend I spent at a charity conference.
A third happened the night I was in the hospital for a minor heart procedure two years earlier.
My skin prickled.
“Who had access to my laptop?”
Richard asked quietly.
I knew.
Household staff.
Ethan.
Vanessa.
Occasionally Daniel Mercer when he came over to discuss business.
And my longtime personal assistant, Helen.
But Helen had worked beside me for twenty-seven years.
She knew the combination to my office safe.
If she wanted to steal from me, she had had thousands of easier opportunities.
“What about the authentication codes?” I asked.
Olivia nodded approvingly.
“Exactly what I wondered.”
“They go to my phone.”
“Usually.”
“Usually?”
“Someone changed the backup verification number seventeen months ago.”
“To what?”
“We’re trying to identify it.”
My hands turned cold.
Richard asked, “Do you remember approving a backup number?”
“No.”
“Could Ethan have?”
“No.”
I paused.
“At least he shouldn’t have been able to.”
Olivia closed one window.
“I recommend immediately replacing your devices and changing all financial credentials.”
“Do it.”
“And Margaret?”
“Yes?”
“Do not confront anyone about the Miami property yet.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
Directly above us was Ethan and Vanessa’s bedroom.
“Why?”
“Because right now they don’t know how much we know.”
I understood.
Let guilty people believe they still have secrets.
They become careless.
At eleven, Vanessa came downstairs dressed in a white designer suit.
She stopped when she saw Richard leaving my study.
“What is he doing here?”
Richard smiled politely.
“Good morning, Mrs. Pierce.”
She ignored him.
“Margaret?”
I closed the study door behind Olivia.
“Richard is my attorney.”
“I know who he is.”
“Then why ask?”
Her gaze flicked between us.
“Are you seriously auditing Ethan?”
“Yes.”
“He’s your son.”
“I’m aware.”
“You’re treating him like a criminal.”
“I’m reviewing financial records.”
“Same thing.”
“No. Criminal activity would make him a criminal.”
Her face tightened.
Richard gave me the smallest warning glance.
I changed direction.
“Where’s Ethan?”
“He went to the office.”
“Without you?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
She stepped closer.
“You think I stole from you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to.”
For the first time, there was no smugness in her voice.
Only fear.
Then something unexpected happened.
Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears.
“Margaret, you have no idea what pressure Ethan is under.”
I remained silent.
“He could lose everything.”
“Why?”
“The Harrington contract.”
“That hasn’t been signed.”
“It will be.”
“You sound very sure.”
“It has to.”
There was desperation in those three words.
“Why?”
She looked away.
“Because people depend on him.”
“Employees?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else?”
Her gaze snapped back to mine.
I had hit something.
She picked up her purse.
“I have an appointment.”
“With Daniel Mercer?”
Her face froze.
I had guessed.
She recovered quickly.
“No.”
“Then you won’t mind telling me where.”
“I’m a grown woman.”
“So am I.”
She walked to the front door.
“Vanessa.”
She stopped.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“The locks will be changed in thirty days.”
Her laugh was brittle.
“You’re really doing this.”
“Yes.”
She stared at me.
Then said quietly, “Ethan will never forgive you.”
That one reached me.
She knew it would.
But this time, instead of allowing it to control me, I answered with the truth.
“That’s his decision.”
She left.
Richard waited until the Mercedes disappeared down the driveway.
“Want to know something interesting?”
“What?”
“Daniel Mercer didn’t go to GreenStone this morning.”
“Where is he?”
“His office says he called in sick.”
I looked toward the rain.
Richard continued.
“And Olivia just identified the backup phone number attached to your financial authentication.”
My fingers tightened.
“Whose?”
He turned his phone toward me.
The account registration showed one name.
Vanessa Pierce.
May you like
For the first time in three years, I no longer wondered whether my daughter-in-law simply disliked me.
Now I wondered how long she had been planning to steal everything I owned.
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