Chương 5
Patricia's study was on the first floor.
A room nobody entered without permission.
A room where she kept financial records, family documents, and every piece of evidence she believed proved she was right.
"Who took it?"
"I don't know."
"Did you?"
His eyes snapped toward mine.
"No."
I believed him.
Not because I trusted him.
Because fear looked different on Grant when he was lying.
This was not fear of being caught.
This was fear of something happening that he couldn't control.
Marcus appeared at the end of the path.
He must have seen our expressions because he stopped immediately.
"What happened?"
Grant looked at him.
"The file is gone."
Marcus went still.
"What file?"
"The Cross report."
Marcus's face changed.
Not panic.
Calculation.
"What exactly was in that report?"
Grant swallowed.
"Everything."
Marcus stepped closer.
"That is not an answer."
Grant looked between us.
"The investigator found something about Allison's company."
My heart tightened.
"What?"
Grant's voice was barely audible.
"He found that someone has been moving money through one of your old accounts."
I stared at him.
For a second, the entire world narrowed.
Not because I believed him.
Because I knew something he didn't.
I had closed that account six years ago.
I stared at Grant for several seconds.
The accusation was so familiar that my first reaction wasn't anger.
It was exhaustion.
"That account was closed."
Grant looked at me.
"What?"
"Six years ago."
He frowned.
"Are you sure?"
The question hurt more than it should have.
Not because he doubted the account.
Because after eight years together, he still asked whether I knew my own life.
"Yes, Grant."
My voice stayed low.
"I am sure."
Marcus looked between us.
"What account are you talking about?"
I turned toward him.
"An operating account from my first company."
"Why was it closed?"
"Because we moved everything to a larger banking platform after the acquisition."
Marcus nodded slowly.
"Do you have records?"
"Of course."
"Where?"
"In my office."
He looked toward the main house.
"Then we need them."
Grant stepped forward.
"Wait."
Marcus stopped.
"What?"
"If Daniel found something, maybe we should look at the report first."
I looked at him.
"The report that was created by someone your mother hired to investigate me?"
Grant didn't respond.
"Why would I trust that?"
"Because if someone is trying to frame you, we need to know how."
The word caught my attention.
"If someone?"
Grant looked uncomfortable.
"Allison, I don't know what is happening."
That was the first thing he had said all day that sounded completely true.
And somehow that made it worse.
Because if Grant didn't know, then someone else was moving pieces around the board.
Marcus walked back toward the house.
"Nobody touches anything until we understand what happened."
Grant followed.
I stayed behind for a moment.
The afternoon sun had shifted lower, casting long shadows across the lawn.
It was strange how quickly a place could transform.
Earlier, this had been a battlefield.
Now it felt like a crime scene.
Not because there was blood.
Because there were secrets.
Inside the estate, the atmosphere had changed.
The deputies had left, but the evidence of the morning remained.
Boxes sat near the entrance.
Furniture had been moved.
A few family photographs were still hanging on the walls because nobody had taken the time to remove them.
I walked past one without meaning to.
It showed the Monroe family at a charity event.
Grant stood beside his parents, smiling confidently.
I was there too.
Near the edge.
Half hidden.
I remembered that night.
I had spent two hours helping Patricia organize the event.
She introduced me to people as "Grant's wife" instead of my name.
At the time, I told myself it didn't matter.
Now I wondered how many small things I had ignored because admitting the truth would have forced me to make a change.
Marcus opened the door to my office.
Technically, it had been my office.
Before the divorce, Grant rarely entered.
Not because I asked him not to.
Because he considered my work separate from his world.
That separation had always bothered him.
He liked being proud of my success.
He just didn't like that he had no control over it.
My desk was exactly as I had left it.
A notebook beside my laptop.
A half-empty water bottle.
A stack of documents I had planned to review after the court hearing.
Ordinary things.
The kind of things that made the morning feel like a different lifetime.
Marcus nodded.
"Find anything connected to that account."
"Even old emails?"
"Especially old emails."
Grant stood in the doorway.
"I want to help."
I looked at him.
The words sounded strange coming from him.
"You want to help now?"
His expression tightened.
"I deserve that."
"Yes."
He accepted it.
That surprised me.
"I do."
The admission created an awkward silence.
Not forgiveness.
Not reconciliation.
Just two people standing in the remains of something they had both failed to save.
I opened my filing cabinet.
The old records were exactly where I expected them to be.
I had always been obsessive about documentation.
It was one of the reasons my company survived its first difficult years.
My father used to say that memory was unreliable, but paper had a longer life than pride.
I found the folder labeled 2019 Banking Transition.
Inside were statements, closure confirmations, and transfer records.
Marcus took the first page.
Then the second.
His expression changed.
"What?"
He handed it to me.
I looked at the document.
The account had been closed.
The balance transferred.
The signature was mine.
Everything was normal.
Except for one thing.
The closure date.
I read it again.
Six years ago.
Three months before I married Grant.
"That's impossible," Grant said.
I looked up.
"Why?"
"Because the account Daniel mentioned."
He swallowed.
"That account was active last month."
The room went silent.
"What?"
Grant rubbed his face.
"My mother showed me statements."
"What statements?"
May you like
"I don't know."
Marcus looked sharply at him.
