Chapter 4 - The Mistress Who Signed My Name
Vanessa Reed denied everything.
At least publicly.
Her attorney issued a statement before noon.
Ms. Reed categorically denies participating in any fraudulent transaction and will fully cooperate with any lawful inquiry.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
“Categorically,” I said.
Lucas looked up from his laptop.
“That’s lawyer language for ‘please don’t arrest me before lunch.’”
I almost smiled.
We were back at Samuel’s office preparing an emergency motion.
My forged signature changed everything.
If the document was fraudulent, then Grant had potentially concealed marital assets while submitting false statements to the court.
But there was another problem.
Vanessa had been a licensed notary when the transfer occurred.
She had signed that she personally witnessed me execute the document.
Three years earlier.
Long before I supposedly knew about their affair.
“You think it had already started?” I asked.
Lucas did not answer immediately.
“Possibly.”
My stomach twisted.
I remembered that year.
Grant had begun traveling more.
Phoenix.
Dallas.
Denver.
Vanessa worked in corporate compliance.
I had once sent flowers to her office after Grant told me she had worked through Christmas Eve helping save a contract.
I felt sick.
Evelyn arrived carrying two coffees, then remembered I was pregnant and handed me tea instead.
“You don’t need to keep checking on me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you want to.”
She considered that.
“Yes.”
I appreciated the honesty.
Samuel walked in.
“We have another issue.”
“Of course we do.”
“Grant filed a motion challenging paternity.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then I laughed.
It came out sharp.
“He knows this baby is his.”
Samuel nodded.
“He’s requesting genetic testing after birth.”
“Why?”
Lucas answered.
“Public pressure.”
I looked at him.
“If people think the child isn’t his, he becomes the betrayed husband rather than the cheating one.”
I felt my son kick.
Grant had cried when we heard the heartbeat.
He had painted half the nursery himself.
Now he was willing to pretend the baby might belong to another man because it helped his image.
That hurt differently than the affair.
Evelyn’s expression turned icy.
“He will regret this.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
She blinked.
“I don’t want him destroyed because you’re powerful.”
“He forged your signature.”
“Then he should face consequences because of what he did.”
I held her gaze.
“Not because your last name scares people.”
For a moment, I worried I had insulted her.
Then something almost like pride moved through her face.
“Understood.”
That afternoon Grant called me.
I ignored him.
He called again.
Again.
On the fifth attempt, I answered.
“What?”
“Drop the fraud allegation.”
No hello.
No apology.
Just Grant.
“It isn’t an allegation if you forged my signature.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then explain it.”
Silence.
I leaned back against the sofa.
“Why did Vanessa notarize a document I never signed?”
“You signed hundreds of documents.”
“Not that one.”
“You don’t remember everything.”
“I remember enough.”
His voice hardened.
“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
Something changed inside me.
Months earlier, those words would have frightened me.
Now they made me angry.
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m warning you.”
“About what?”
“The Sterlings.”
I went still.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“You sound nervous.”
Grant exhaled.
“Claire, those people are not your family.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You meet one billionaire and suddenly you think you’re special?”
There it was.
The Grant I knew.
He couldn’t stand any reality where I had value he had not assigned.
“You filed to deny your own son today,” I said.
“He may not be my son.”
My eyes filled with tears.
I hated that he could still hurt me.
“You know he is.”
“Then the test will prove it.”
“Why?”
No answer.
“Why, Grant?”
His voice became quiet.
“Because if you want to turn this into war, I will.”
I hung up.
My hands shook.
Evelyn had been standing in the doorway.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough.”
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t have to be.”
That nearly broke me.
I looked away.
“Ruth used to say that.”
Evelyn sat beside me.
“Tell me about her.”
I hesitated.
Then I did.
I told her how Ruth danced badly while cooking.
How she clipped coupons even after she had enough money.
How she believed no bad day could survive cinnamon toast.
How she cried at every graduation ceremony even when she didn’t know the children.
Evelyn listened.
No jealousy.
No defensiveness.
At the end, she whispered, “I wish I could have thanked her.”
I looked at her.
“For what?”
“For being there when I couldn’t.”
My throat closed.
That night, I received an email from an unknown address.
Subject:
YOU NEED TO KNOW WHAT GRANT DID.
There was no message.
Only an attachment.
A photograph.
Grant standing beside Vanessa outside a hotel.
Timestamped four years earlier.
Before the forged document.
Before my pregnancy.
Before I ever suspected them.
I stared at it until the screen blurred.
Then a second email arrived.
Same sender.
HE DIDN’T JUST STEAL YOUR COMPANY.
Attached was a bank statement.
An account in the Cayman Islands.
Balance:
$11,840,219.
Account holder:
PIERCE VENTURES INTERNATIONAL.
I called Lucas.
He answered on the first ring.
“Please tell me you’re not in labor.”
“Not yet.”
“Good.”
“I just received something.”
I forwarded the email.
Silence.
Then Lucas said, “Well.”
“What?”
“That’s not four million.”
“I can read numbers.”
“If this is legitimate, he hid almost twelve million dollars.”
My pulse quickened.
“Can you trace the sender?”
“I’ll try.”
Twenty minutes later, Lucas called back.
His voice had changed.
“The email came through several relays.”
“So we don’t know?”
“We know one thing.”
“What?”
“The original file metadata has a username.”
I gripped the phone.
“Whose?”
He paused.
“Vanessa Reed.”
I stared into the darkness.
May you like
Grant’s mistress had just handed me the first weapon capable of destroying him.
The question was why.
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