Chapter 6 - The Ghost of Hartwell Medical
While Tyler was discovering that his keycard, his office, and his home had all locked him out, our corporate legal team was executing phase two of the takedown.
Marcus Thorne had been brought into a secure conference room at Hartwell Tower, where my father’s lead counsel, Victoria Vance—no relation to Tyler, thankfully—laid out the hard evidence of corporate embezzlement and unauthorized asset diversion.
“You signed off on three separate wire transfers to offshore accounts managed by Cassandra Vale’s event production shell company, Marcus,” Victoria said, sliding thick stacks of financial documents across the table. “Under federal law, that makes you an active co-conspirator in corporate fraud. Unless, of course, you have documentation proving Tyler coerced you.”
Marcus looked pale, sweat beading on his forehead as he stared at the papers. “Tyler told me it was a pre-approved executive retention bonus! He said Elena signed off on it verbally during a private dinner!”
“Verbal authorization does not override corporate bylaws or digital audit trails,” Victoria replied coolly, tapping her pen against the table. “You have two hours to sign a full sworn affidavit detailing Tyler’s embezzlement scheme, or you walk out of this building straight into federal custody alongside him.”
Marcus didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the Montblanc pen and signed his name across the affidavit with trembling hands.
Back at Johns Hopkins, my phone buzzed with an encrypted update from Victoria. *Marcus flipped. We have everything we need to freeze his personal assets by Monday morning. The civil suit will strip him of every single asset he accumulated during the marriage.*
I read the message and forwarded it to my father, who let out a low whistle of approval.
“Victoria is ruthless when she smells blood in the water,” Dad murmured. “Reminds me of your mother.”
“Mother wouldn't have tolerated him for seven months, let alone seven years,” I replied, looking down at my sleeping babies.
Noah stirred, letting out a tiny squeak before settling back into a deep, peaceful sleep. The nurses had told me earlier that their vitals were so stable they were already discussing moving them out of the intensive care incubators into standard transitional cribs within the next forty-eight hours.
My phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a secure corporate update. It was an unrecognized number—a burner phone Tyler must have picked up at a gas station after his primary device was blocked from the company network.
*Elena, please,* the text read. *I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing with my office and the house, but I’m standing outside right now in the pouring rain. The doors are locked. The security system won't recognize me. The babies aren't inside—the nursery is completely empty! Where are you? Please, talk to me.*
I stared at the screen for a long, unbroken moment. Then, with deliberate slowness, I tapped the block button.
May you like
He was standing in the empty house, staring at bare cribs and locked doors, finally realizing that his entire life had vanished like smoke. And the worst part for him wasn't that I was gone.
It was that he had no idea where to even begin looking for me.
