Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN IN THE OFFICE
I didn’t sleep.
The anonymous messages kept returning to my thoughts. ASK GRANT WHY HE
NEVER TOLD YOU ABOUT THE WOMAN IN HIS OFFICE. VANESSA WASN’T THE FIRST.
By morning, I had convinced myself not to ask. Then Grant arrived with
coffee and a paper bag of breakfast, and I realized I couldn’t build a
future with him while pretending I didn’t have questions.
“Who was she?” I asked.
He set the bag down.
“Who?”
“The woman in your office.”
His expression changed. “Where did you hear that?”
“Someone sent me a message.”
He didn’t reach for my phone. He didn’t demand to know who had contacted
me. He simply sat across from me.
“Her name was Lena Ward. She worked in the family office. She found
irregular payments in the shipping accounts and tried to bring them to
me.”
“Was she your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Did you have an affair with her?”
“No.”
I watched his face. “Then why was she in your office?”
“Because she was frightened. Richard had been following her. I moved her
to a secure room while Daniel arranged a meeting with an investigator.”
“What happened to her?”
Grant looked down at his hands.
“She disappeared before the meeting. We found her car abandoned near
Newark. No body. No note. Nothing.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“I told the people I thought I could trust. At the time, I didn’t
understand how far Richard’s influence reached.”
I waited.
Grant continued. “Lena was the first person to warn me that Richard was
moving money through shell companies. Caroline was the second. I ignored
both warnings because I believed my uncle was protecting the family. I
was wrong.”
I thought about the messages.
“Why would someone send me that now?”
“To make you doubt me.”
“Maybe they know something you don’t.”
“Then I’ll find out.”
I shook my head. “No more private investigations. We tell Agent Shaw.”
He nodded.
A knock came at the door. Marcus entered with a woman behind him.
Vanessa.
She was no longer wearing the ivory dress from Altura. Her hair was tied
back, and her face looked pale without makeup. Two agents stood in the
hall.
Grant rose immediately.
“What is she doing here?”
Vanessa looked at me. “I asked to speak to Emily.”
“You can speak through the investigator,” Grant said.
“I have something she needs to know.”
Agent Shaw stepped into the room. “I agreed to supervise this
conversation. Nothing is happening outside my presence.”
Vanessa sat on the chair nearest the door. She kept her hands folded in
her lap.
“I know you hate me,” she began.
I didn’t answer.
“I know I helped Richard. I know I accessed the clinic schedule and sent
him the appointment dates. I told myself it was harmless. I thought he
wanted to know whether Grant was hiding something from the family.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because my brother owed him money. Richard said he would clear the debt
if I helped him keep track of Grant.”
“Did you know he was threatening me?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled. “Not at first.”
“At what point did you know?”
She looked at the floor.
“When I saw the photograph of your apartment. When I heard him say the
baby would be easier to control if you were frightened.”
My stomach tightened.
“And you did nothing.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
Vanessa nodded. “I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
For a moment, her carefully arranged expression broke. She looked less
like the woman who had laughed at my uniform and more like someone who
had spent too long making excuses for terrible choices.
“I thought if I stayed beside Grant, I could keep Richard from doing
worse things. I thought I could protect myself and my brother. But
Richard never intended to stop.”
Grant’s voice was cold. “You could have told me.”
“You wouldn’t have believed me.”
“Try me.”
Vanessa looked at him. “You never saw me as a person. You saw me as
someone who made you feel admired. Richard knew that. He told me exactly
what to say, when to appear, when to leave. He wanted you distracted.”
Grant’s expression did not change, but I saw the shame in his eyes.
“Did you know he arranged for me to go to Emily’s apartment that night?”
he asked.
Vanessa nodded.
“How?”
“He called your security chief with a false emergency. Then he told me
you were going to Brooklyn. He wanted you to believe the meeting was
your own idea, but he had already made sure Emily would answer the
door.”
I felt sick. “Did he know we would sleep together?”
Vanessa looked at me. “He expected it. He said you two were still in
love, even if neither of you wanted to admit it.”
Grant stood and walked to the window.
“That doesn’t make what happened less real,” he said.
“No,” Vanessa replied. “It doesn’t.”
Agent Shaw took a small recorder from her folder. “Ms. Cole, are you
willing to make a formal statement and provide the messages you received
from Richard?”
Vanessa nodded. “Yes.”
“Your cooperation does not guarantee immunity.”
“I understand.”
She reached into her purse and removed a phone. “There are recordings.
He called me last night after the fire alarm. He told me the baby had to
be moved before the birth.”
Grant turned.
“Moved where?”
Vanessa swallowed. “To the family residence. He said he had a doctor
ready and a temporary guardianship document waiting. He planned to make
it look as though Emily had voluntarily agreed to let the family take
over.”
I felt my blood run cold.
“Why would I agree to that?”
“He had a document with your signature.”
“I never signed anything.”
“I know. It’s forged.”
Agent Shaw took the phone. “We’ll preserve this as evidence.”
Vanessa looked at me one last time. “I am sorry.”
I wanted to hate her. Part of me still did. But I had no interest in
comforting someone who had helped endanger my child.
“Don’t apologize to me,” I said. “Tell the truth when it matters.”
She nodded.
After the agents escorted her out, Grant remained by the window.
“Do you believe her?” I asked.
“I believe she was involved. I don’t know whether she has told us
everything.”
“At least she’s finally telling something.”
He turned toward me. “I should have seen what Richard was doing.”
“You should have seen a lot of things.”
“I know.”
I looked down at the breakfast he had brought. The coffee was cooling.
“Grant, I don’t want our child growing up around fear. I don’t want
bodyguards outside the nursery or people whispering about who controls
the family trust.”
“Then we change the family.”
“Can you?”
He considered the question. “I can start by giving up the parts of the
business that depend on intimidation. I can cooperate with the
investigation. I can make sure the trust is independent of me and
everyone else.”
“That sounds like a beginning.”
He nodded.
My phone rang. It was my obstetrician.
She wanted me to come in immediately. My blood pressure had been
elevated at the previous appointment, and she wanted to repeat the test.
I told her I would be there within the hour.
Grant reached for his coat.
“I’ll drive you.”
“Rachel is coming with me.”
“Of course.”
He didn’t argue.
As I stood, a warm rush spread down my legs.
I froze.
Rachel looked at me. “Emily?”
Another contraction tightened across my abdomen.
My doctor had warned me that the baby might arrive early.
Grant’s face went pale.
“Is it time?”
I took a careful breath.
“I think we need to go to the hospital.”
Before Vanessa left, I asked one final question.
“Did you ever love him?”
She looked at Grant, then back at me. “I loved being the person he
chose. I liked the attention, the access, the way people moved when I
entered a room. I told myself that was love because it was easier than
admitting I wanted the life he could give me.”
“Did you know he still loved me?”
“Yes.” Her answer came quietly. “I knew it from the way he kept your old
photographs. I knew it when he refused to let anyone change the music in
the penthouse because you had chosen it. I knew it every time he said
your name and then pretended he hadn’t.”
Grant looked away.
Vanessa stood. “I am not asking you to forgive me. I just wanted you to
know I understood what I was helping him lose.”
After she left, I sat quietly for a while. The admission didn’t make her
actions less cruel. It did, however, confirm something I had spent two
years trying not to believe: Grant’s feelings had not disappeared when
our marriage ended. They had simply been buried beneath pride, ambition,
and other people’s plans.
I wasn’t sure whether that knowledge comforted me or made the hurt
worse.
Rachel returned with my coat and the hospital bag. “Ready?”
I nodded.
Grant picked up the bag, but waited for me to decide whether he should
carry it. I handed it to him.
Outside, the morning air was cold. I paused beside the car and took a
breath.
Whatever happened next, I would not let the past make every decision for
May you like
me. I could be angry and still accept help. I could remember love
without promising to return to it.
