Chapter 3 - The Secret Behind the Vance Fortune
Arthur made it as far as the front steps.
Noé didn’t stop him.
Neither did the police.
That surprised Isaac.
It surprised me too.
“Why are you letting him leave?” I asked.
Caleb stood beside the ballroom window, watching Arthur’s car disappear beyond the gates.
“Because frightened people make mistakes when they think nobody is watching.”
“You’re following him?”
Caleb looked at me.
“I’m a private investigator, Flora. What do you think?”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Almost.
The police eventually left after completing their initial work. Isaac was told clearly that the investigation would continue.
My marriage was effectively over.
But my night wasn’t.
Noé wanted me away from the estate.
I agreed.
Not because Isaac frightened me anymore.
Because I finally understood that staying there served no purpose.
I packed one suitcase.
Six years of marriage fit surprisingly easily into it.
As I reached the staircase, Isaac was waiting below.
“Flora.”
I stopped.
My brothers stood behind me.
Isaac looked older than he had two hours earlier.
“Can we talk privately?”
“No.”
“Please.”
That word sounded unnatural coming from him.
I descended another step.
“What do you want?”
He glanced toward Chloé.
She had remained in the ballroom.
“You think you know what happened between us.”
“You slept with her for eight months.”
His face drained of color.
That was the moment he realized I had known.
“Who told you?”
“Nobody.”
“Flora—”
“Hotel receipts. Messages. Photographs. You weren’t particularly careful.”
Chloé looked away.
Isaac rubbed his forehead.
“It wasn't what you think.”
I laughed for the first time that night.
Quietly.
“What an extraordinary sentence.”
“I made mistakes.”
“Thirty of them tonight alone.”
He flinched.
Good.
Not because I enjoyed hurting him.
Because for once, reality had reached him.
I walked past.
He caught my wrist.
Noé moved instantly.
But I raised my free hand.
“Noé.”
He stopped.
I looked down at Isaac’s fingers around my wrist.
“Take your hand off me.”
Isaac released me.
That was the last time he ever touched me.
Outside, the night air felt impossibly cold.
I climbed into Noé’s SUV.
As the estate disappeared behind us, I expected grief.
Instead I felt relief.
Twenty minutes later, Marc’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked at Caleb.
“We found Northstar.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Marc turned his laptop toward me.
Northstar Materials had received enormous payments from multiple Vance subsidiaries.
Millions.
Then tens of millions.
Money traveled through consulting firms, subcontractors, foreign accounts and property companies.
“What am I looking at?”
“A pattern,” Marc said.
“Of what?”
“Potential fraud. Maybe tax crimes. Maybe something larger. We need records before saying more.”
Léo leaned forward.
“How much?”
“Based on what I can see publicly? At least forty million dollars.”
My mouth went dry.
“And Arthur knows?”
Marc gave me a look.
“Arthur probably designed it.”
The next morning, I woke in Noé’s guest house after less than two hours of sleep.
My phone contained 146 messages.
Some were from friends.
Some from guests.
Most were from numbers I didn’t recognize.
Someone had leaked what happened.
By eight in the morning, reporters were outside the Vance estate.
By nine, Vance Construction issued a statement calling the incident “a private marital dispute.”
By nine-fifteen, Julien was laughing.
“They’re idiots.”
“Why?”
“They just admitted there was an incident.”
He drafted a response with me.
Short.
Factual.
No theatrics.
No threats.
At ten, Chloé called.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Flora?”
“What do you want?”
“I know where Arthur keeps the computer.”
I sat upright.
“Where?”
“His private office downtown.”
“Why are you helping me?”
Silence.
Then she began crying.
“Because Isaac lied to me too.”
I felt no satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
“What did he tell you?”
“That he was leaving you.”
“Of course.”
“He said the marriage was basically over.”
“Was that before or after he bought you the apartment?”
She stopped breathing.
“You know about that?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t.
But her reaction told me everything.
“Chloé, listen carefully. If you know anything connected to company finances, tell an attorney. Don’t destroy anything. Don’t take anything. Don’t lie for Isaac.”
“Arthur will destroy me.”
“Then get your own lawyer.”
I hung up.
By noon, Caleb had another discovery.
He placed a photograph on Noé’s dining table.
It showed Arthur entering a private storage facility outside the city at 2:17 that morning.
“He went there after leaving the estate,” Caleb said.
“What’s inside?”
“We don’t know.”
Julien immediately interrupted.
“And we’re not breaking in.”
Caleb rolled his eyes.
“I know how laws work, counselor.”
“I’ve met you.”
Noé ignored them.
“Can we legally obtain anything?”
“Not ourselves,” Julien said. “But if there’s evidence of financial crimes, authorities can.”
Marc pushed another document across the table.
“There’s more.”
The document carried my name.
FLORA STERLING VANCE.
Below it was the name of a company I had never heard of.
Sterling Development Holdings.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
I stared at it.
“I never signed this.”
Marc nodded.
“I know.”
“What is it?”
“A corporate guarantee.”
“For how much?”
He hesitated.
“Eighty-six million dollars.”
The room went silent.
I looked again.
My name.
My forged signature.
My supposed authorization.
“They used me?”
Marc’s expression hardened.
“It appears someone did.”
“For what?”
“To move liability.”
I felt physically sick.
This was why Isaac had taken my laptop.
Maybe why he had wanted me humiliated.
Maybe why Arthur had spent years convincing everyone I was an irrelevant wife.
If the financial structure collapsed, they intended to make me useful one final time.
As the person holding the blame.
Julien pulled the document closer.
“If this signature is forged, they have a serious problem.”
“They already have a serious problem,” Marc said.
His phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
We waited.
Marc ended the call.
“Arthur’s storage facility is being searched.”
“How?”
“Apparently another investigation was already underway.”
Caleb smiled without humor.
“So we weren't the only people watching Arthur.”
An hour later, news helicopters appeared over downtown.
Then trading in a Vance-affiliated company was temporarily halted.
Isaac called me seventeen times.
I answered on the eighteenth.
“Flora.”
He sounded breathless.
“What?”
“My father did things I didn’t know about.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The beginning of betrayal inside the Vance family.
“What things?”
“I need to see you.”
“No.”
“I can explain everything.”
“You can explain it to your lawyer.”
“Flora, please. They’re saying your name is on documents.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
He whispered something I barely heard.
“Oh God.”
Then another voice appeared in the background.
Arthur.
“Give me the phone.”
Isaac shouted, “Stay away from me!”
A crash followed.
Then the line disconnected.
Twenty minutes later, Caleb entered carrying an envelope.
“What’s that?”
“Courier delivered it.”
“For me?”
He nodded.
No return address.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a handwritten note.
Flora—if Arthur realizes you have this, he will blame Isaac. If Isaac realizes you have it, he will blame Chloé. Trust neither of them. Start with the folder marked BIRTHDAY.
My hands went cold.
I connected the drive to an isolated laptop Caleb provided.
There were dozens of folders.
I clicked BIRTHDAY.
Inside was a video file.
Timestamped three days earlier.
Arthur and Isaac sat in Arthur’s office.
The audio was perfectly clear.
Arthur spoke first.
“Your wife is asking too many questions.”
Isaac leaned back.
“I can handle Flora.”
“How?”
Isaac smiled.
And what he said next made the thirty lashes feel like only the beginning.
May you like
“After her birthday, she won’t ask questions again.”
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