Chapter 4
I didn’t go home that night.
I took Noah to my sister Rebecca’s house across town.
Rebecca was eight years older than me and had never liked Vanessa.
I used to think it was jealousy.
Now I wondered if she had simply seen something I refused to see.
The moment Rebecca opened her front door and saw me holding Noah with Maria behind me, her face changed.
“What happened?”
“Can we come in?”
She didn’t ask anything else.
She locked the door behind us.
Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in her kitchen while Noah slept in a portable crib upstairs.
Rebecca listened without interrupting.
When I finished telling her about the iron, the recordings, and the hidden cameras, she stared at the table.
“I knew something was wrong.”
I looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
She slowly raised her eyes.
“Do you remember Christmas?”
“Which part?”
“When Vanessa wouldn’t let me hold Noah.”
“He had a cold.”
“That’s what she told you.”
I frowned.
“She said his pediatrician told us to limit contact.”
“No, Michael.”
Rebecca’s voice became quiet.
“I walked into the nursery while she was changing him.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did you see?”
“A bruise on his side.”
I stood up.
“You saw a bruise and said nothing?”
“I asked Vanessa.”
“And?”
“She told me Noah had rolled against the edge of his changing table.”
“He was three months old. He couldn’t roll.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Her face hardened.
“I did.”
“When?”
“Christmas night, after dinner.”
I searched my memory.
Then I remembered Rebecca pulling me toward the back patio.
Before she could speak, Vanessa had appeared with a glass of champagne and asked me to help her deal with some argument between her and my mother.
I never returned to Rebecca.
My anger turned inward.
“Why didn’t you call me later?”
“Because your wife called me first.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The next morning.”
“What did she say?”
Rebecca laughed once, without humor.
“She told me that if I kept trying to create trouble in your marriage, she would make sure you believed I was unstable.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It made sense to me.”
“Why?”
Rebecca looked away.
“Because she knew about the medication I took after my divorce.”
I stared at her.
“You were taking antidepressants.”
“For eight months. Four years ago.”
“How did Vanessa know?”
“I told you.”
My blood chilled.
I had told Vanessa privately.
Late one night.
Months before Noah was born.
I had asked her to be patient with Rebecca because her divorce had nearly broken her.
Vanessa had listened.
Held my hand.
Promised she understood.
Then she used it as a weapon.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Rebecca’s eyes softened.
“This isn’t about me.”
“It should be.”
“No. Right now it’s about Noah.”
My phone buzzed on the table.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Michael Carter?”
“Yes.”
“This is Daniel Price.”
I recognized the name immediately.
Vanessa’s attorney.
“I represent your wife.”
“I figured.”
“She would like access to the marital residence.”
“No.”
A pause.
“You understand it is also her home.”
“It’s an active crime scene.”
“The police have completed their initial search.”
“She threatened my child.”
“My client denies intending harm.”
“I have it on video.”
“You have a partial recording filmed by an employee who may have motives of her own.”
I looked at Maria.
She was sitting across the kitchen, listening.
“What do you want?”
“Vanessa wants some personal belongings.”
“She can arrange it through the police.”
“She also wants to see her son.”
“No.”
“Mr. Carter—”
“No.”
“You cannot unilaterally deny a parent access forever.”
“Watch me.”
Rebecca touched my arm, silently warning me not to say anything stupid.
Price continued.
“We’ll address custody in court.”
“Good.”
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“My client says you removed a phone belonging to her.”
“I gave it to the police.”
Silence.
That was interesting.
“You did what?”
“I gave it to Detective Brooks.”
“That device contains privileged and private communications.”
“Then I’m sure you can explain that to him.”
Price’s voice became sharper.
“You may have exposed confidential corporate information.”
There it was.
Not family photographs.
Not personal messages.
Corporate information.
“What corporate information?”
Another pause.
“I’m speaking generally.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Mr. Carter, I strongly recommend that you obtain counsel.”
“I already have one.”
I hung up.
Rebecca stared at me.
“You don’t have one.”
“I will in ten minutes.”
I called David Kim, a corporate attorney and friend from college.
When I explained the situation, he stopped me halfway through.
“Do not use your personal laptop.”
“Why?”
“Because if cameras were aimed at your office, assume passwords were compromised.”
My stomach tightened.
“Even company systems?”
“Especially company systems.”
I called my chief technology officer.
Within an hour, my company’s security team had begun an emergency access review.
At 1:17 a.m., David called back.
His voice sounded different.
“Michael, we have a problem.”
“What kind?”
“Someone accessed your executive cloud account six times from an unfamiliar device.”
“When?”
“Over the last four months.”
I stood near Rebecca’s kitchen window, staring into the dark yard.
“What did they open?”
“Board presentations. Draft contracts. Acquisition plans.”
My chest tightened.
“Anything related to the merger?”
“All of it.”
The merger with Halcyon Medical Systems had been confidential.
If the information leaked, competitors could destroy the deal.
“Can you identify the device?”
“Not yet.”
“Could Vanessa have done it?”
“Possibly.”
I closed my eyes.
“What else?”
David hesitated.
“There were downloads.”
“How many?”
“Forty-three.”
I felt dizzy.
“What kind of files?”
“Financial models. Employee data. Negotiation strategy.”
I pressed my hand against the counter.
“Why would she want those?”
“I don’t know.”
A sound behind me made me turn.
Maria stood in the doorway.
Her face had gone pale.
“What?” I asked.
She looked at the phone in my hand.
“You said files were stolen?”
“Yes.”
Maria swallowed.
“I may know something.”
Rebecca came into the kitchen.
“What?”
Maria sat slowly.
“Three weeks ago, Mrs. Carter had a man in your office.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“What man?”
“I don’t know.”
“Describe him.”
“Tall. Gray hair. Expensive suit.”
“Did you hear his name?”
“No.”
“What were they doing?”
Maria looked frightened.
“I entered because I was cleaning. Mrs. Carter became angry and told me to leave.”
“Did you see anything?”
“A laptop.”
“Mine?”
“No. His.”
My mind started racing.
“Anything else?”
Maria nodded.
“He said something when I was leaving.”
“What?”
She concentrated.
“He said, ‘Once the Houston deal closes, Michael won’t matter anymore.’”
Rebecca stared at me.
“What Houston deal?”
“The merger.”
Maria looked confused.
“There is more.”
My heart sank.
“What?”
“Mrs. Carter told him not to speak so loudly.”
“And he said?”
Maria’s voice dropped.
“He laughed.”
A chill ran through me.
“What exactly did he say?”
She met my eyes.
“He said, ‘Relax, Vanessa. By then you’ll have the house, the money, and the child.’”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then my phone rang.
Detective Brooks.
I answered.
“We unlocked part of the second phone,” he said.
“What did you find?”
“Messages with someone saved under the name D.”
My eyes went to Maria.
“What kind of messages?”
Brooks hesitated.
“Enough to change the direction of the investigation.”
My throat tightened.
“Tell me.”
“One message from two days ago says: ‘If Michael discovers the recordings, everything falls apart.’”
I gripped the phone harder.
“And Vanessa replied?”
Brooks exhaled.
“She wrote, ‘Then make sure he never discovers them.’”
I looked toward the stairs where my son was sleeping.
“What recordings?”
“We’re trying to determine that.”
Then Brooks went quiet.
“Detective?”
“There’s another message.”
“What does it say?”
May you like
His voice became careful.
“Vanessa wrote, ‘I can handle the baby. You handle Michael.’”
