Chapter 10 — The Husband Who Tried to Destroy His Wife
Chapter 10 — The Husband Who Tried to Destroy His Wife
Andrew had finally understood that he could not take Mariana's fortune.
So he tried something more dangerous.
He tried to destroy her name.
The first accusation appeared at 7:03 a.m.
VALE HEIRESS ACCUSED OF $84 MILLION FRAUD
I stared at the headline.
My photograph filled the screen.
Underneath it was a story claiming I had secretly transferred company funds into offshore accounts.
The article included bank records.
Transaction dates.
Account numbers.
Even my supposed signature.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Jonathan rushed into my office.
“We have a problem.”
“I can see that.”
“The documents are fake.”
“I know.”
“The media doesn't.”
I looked at the screen.
The story had already been shared thousands of times.
Another headline appeared.
MARIANA VALE'S SECRET FINANCIAL EMPIRE EXPOSED
Then another.
WIFE OF DISGRACED CEO LINKED TO MISSING MILLIONS
I closed the laptop.
“Who released this?”
“We're tracing it.”
“Andrew?”
Jonathan hesitated.
“We found his attorney's digital signature in the metadata.”
I stared at him.
“So he did it.”
“Most likely.”
I felt something inside me go completely cold.
After everything.
After the slap.
After the affair.
After everything I had done for him.
He was still trying to destroy me.
At 8:15 a.m., the police arrived.
Two detectives.
One woman.
One man.
They were polite.
Professional.
But I knew what that meant.
Someone had filed a formal complaint.
Against me.
The detective placed a folder on the table.
“Mrs. Vale, we need to ask you some questions.”
“I'll answer them.”
“Do you recognize these accounts?”
“No.”
“Your name appears on every authorization.”
“My signature was forged.”
“We're aware of that possibility.”
“Then why am I being questioned?”
“Because someone transferred eighty-four million dollars using your identity.”
I looked at the documents.
“Who reported it?”
The detective hesitated.
“Mr. Andrew Escalante.”
My stomach tightened.
Of course.
He was trying to make himself look like the victim.
I looked at the detective.
“Did he provide evidence?”
“Yes.”
“Did you verify it?”
“We're in the process.”
“Then verify it quickly.”
At 10:30 a.m., the media gathered outside the headquarters.
Cameras.
Reporters.
Microphones.
Questions shouted through the doors.
“Mariana, did you steal the money?”
“Did you forge the documents?”
“Is the Vale Foundation a fraud?”
“Did you frame your husband?”
I kept walking.
I refused to answer.
Then one reporter shouted:
“Did you marry Andrew Escalante for his money?”
I stopped.
I turned.
The entire crowd became silent.
“No.”
The reporter looked surprised.
“I married him because I loved him.”
Cameras flashed.
“And he married me because someone told him to.”
I walked inside.
Within minutes, the clip was everywhere.
At noon, Andrew held a press conference.
I watched it from my office.
He stood behind a row of microphones.
His face looked exhausted.
He wore a dark suit.
No tie.
He looked like a betrayed husband.
Perfect.
“I loved Mariana,” he said.
I almost laughed.
“I never wanted this.”
He paused.
“But I discovered financial irregularities.”
The room erupted with questions.
Andrew raised his hands.
“I reported them because I believed the truth mattered.”
Liar.
He continued.
“I never imagined my wife would be involved.”
Another lie.
Then he said the sentence that made my blood run cold.
“I tried to protect her.”
I stared at the screen.
Protect me?
He was trying to destroy me.
At 2:00 p.m., Brenda called.
“You need to leave the city.”
“No.”
“Mariana.”
“No.”
“Andrew is not acting alone.”
“I know.”
“He has access to documents.”
“Forged documents.”
“Not all of them are forged.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He mixed real transactions with fake ones.”
“Why?”
“To make the fraud look real.”
My blood ran cold.
“How?”
“He used money you actually moved.”
“Which money?”
“The emergency funds.”
I understood.
The money I had transferred to save Escalante Holdings.
He had altered the records.
Made it look like I had stolen it.
“I have copies.”
“Where?”
“At Andrew's office.”
My heart stopped.
“He kept them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he planned this months ago.”
I drove to the old Escalante corporate building.
The investigators had sealed it.
Jonathan had arranged access.
We entered through a private entrance.
The building was empty.
Dark.
Silent.
Andrew's office had been searched.
Drawers overturned.
Computers removed.
Files scattered across the floor.
I walked toward the desk.
Nothing.
Then I remembered something.
Andrew always kept sentimental things in the bottom drawer.
Our wedding photograph.
My first letter to him.
The watch I gave him.
I opened it.
Empty.
Jonathan looked at me.
“What are you looking for?”
“Something he thought I wouldn't find.”
I checked the bookshelf.
Nothing.
The safe.
Empty.
Then I noticed the painting behind his desk.
It was slightly crooked.
I removed it.
Behind it was a hidden compartment.
Inside was a folder.
I opened it.
My name was on the cover.
PROJECT MARIANA
I stared at the words.
My hands began to shake.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
Financial records.
Psychological evaluations.
Private messages.
A detailed timeline.
My habits.
My relationships.
My schedule.
My vulnerabilities.
Everything.
Someone had been studying me.
Not for months.
For years.
The first document was dated six months before my wedding.
I read it.
Subject: Mariana Vale
Objective: Secure marriage.
I turned the page.
Secondary objective: Gain access to Vale trust structure.
Another page.
Tertiary objective: Produce heir if possible.
I stopped.
My stomach turned.
The next page was worse.
If marriage fails, initiate reputational destruction.
Then:
Final objective: Remove Mariana from control of Vale assets.
I looked at Jonathan.
“This isn't Andrew's plan.”
“No.”
“Who wrote it?”
He pointed to the bottom.
A signature.
Julian Cross.
I closed my eyes.
Andrew hadn't created this.
He had followed it.
For years.
Then I found something else.
A photograph.
Andrew and Julian.
Standing together.
The date was four months before my wedding.
On the back was a message.
He doesn't know everything. Keep him obedient.
I stared at the words.
Andrew had been manipulated too.
That didn't excuse him.
But it explained something.
Why had Julian needed Brenda?
Why had he needed Margaret?
Why had he needed Andrew?
Because none of them knew the whole plan.
They each knew one piece.
Only Julian knew everything.
Or so I thought.
At the bottom of the folder was a handwritten note.
Not Julian's handwriting.
My mother's.
Mariana, if you ever find this, remember one thing: Andrew was never the architect.
I read the next sentence.
He was a weapon.
Then:
And the person holding the weapon is not Julian.
I froze.
Not Julian?
Who else could possibly be behind everything?
At 6:00 p.m., Andrew called.
I answered.
“You found the file.”
My blood went cold.
“How did you know?”
“Because I put it there.”
I stared at the phone.
“You wanted me to find it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you need to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That I didn't choose this.”
“You chose to hit me.”
Silence.
“You chose Brenda.”
Silence.
“You chose to destroy my reputation.”
“I had no choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
His voice broke.
“Julian has something on me.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“What do you mean?”
“He knows about my father.”
I frowned.
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Julian Cross?”
“No.”
Silence.
“My biological father.”
I froze.
“What?”
Andrew's breathing became uneven.
“Julian wasn't my biological father.”
I sat down.
“Then who is?”
He whispered:
“Victor Vale.”
The world stopped.
My father.
My husband.
Andrew.
The photograph.
Julian.
My mother.
The missing child.
Everything shattered into a new shape.
“No.”
Andrew began crying.
“I didn't know until two years ago.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear.”
“My father isn't your father.”
“He is.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why did Julian say he was?”
“He didn't.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Julian told me to believe it.”
I couldn't breathe.
Andrew continued.
“He said if I ever told you, he'd kill my mother.”
“Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“So you obeyed him.”
“Yes.”
“And you destroyed me.”
“I thought I could control the situation.”
“You couldn't.”
“No.”
“You lost everything.”
“I know.”
“And now you're blaming Julian.”
“No.”
He paused.
“I'm blaming myself.”
For the first time, his voice sounded sincere.
“I was weak.”
“Yes.”
“I was selfish.”
“Yes.”
“I hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“I don't expect forgiveness.”
“Good.”
“I only want you to know…”
He stopped.
“What?”
“I never wanted you dead.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
Julian's plan wasn't just to destroy me.
He wanted me dead.
Andrew continued:
“He told me the final step was an accident.”
I felt cold.
“What kind of accident?”
“A car.”
My blood froze.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
I stood immediately.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Andrew.”
“I swear.”
“Who is driving?”
“I don't know.”
“Who ordered it?”
“Julian.”
I closed my eyes.
Then I remembered my mother's letter.
If you are reading this, someone has tried to take what belongs to you.
Someone had tried.
Again and again.
And now they were preparing to finish it.
I called Jonathan.
“Cancel every vehicle.”
“What?”
“Every car registered to me.”
He understood immediately.
“Done.”
“Put security around Amelia.”
“Yes.”
“Find my mother.”
“We're searching.”
“And Andrew?”
“What about him?”
“Protect him.”
Jonathan stared at me.
“Why?”
“Because if Julian wants him alive long enough to frame me, Andrew is still useful.”
I looked toward the city.
“But if Julian wants him dead…”
I paused.
“…then Andrew may be the only person who can lead us to him.”
At 11:20 p.m., an emergency alert appeared.
A vehicle registered to Andrew had been found abandoned outside the city.
The driver's seat was covered in blood.
No driver.
No Andrew.
No explanation.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Julian.
“You should have let your husband die.”
I felt my blood turn cold.
“Where is Andrew?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere you can't reach.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“You've said that.”
“No.”
His voice became softer.
“I want you to understand why.”
“Why what?”
“Why your mother chose you.”
I froze.
“What does that mean?”
“She could have saved herself.”
He paused.
“She could have saved Amelia.”
Another pause.
“But she chose you.”
“Why?”
“Because you're the only one who can destroy what your father built.”
I stared at the darkness outside the window.
“My father built the Vale empire.”
Julian laughed.
“No.”
“He stole it.”
I felt a chill.
“From whom?”
Julian's voice dropped.
“From me.”
The call ended.
I stood frozen.
Then my phone received a photograph.
It showed my mother.
Alive.
Standing beside a young man.
The young man was Andrew.
The date was fourteen years earlier.
I stared at the image.
Andrew had been there.
Before our wedding.
Before I knew him.
Before I thought our lives had crossed by chance.
On the back of the photograph was a single sentence:
Ask your husband what happened the night your mother disappeared.
I looked at the clock.
11:59 p.m.
One minute before midnight.
And somewhere in the city, Andrew was alive.
Someone had kidnapped him.
Someone had framed me.
Someone had hidden my mother.
Someone had stolen millions.
And now I finally understood the terrifying truth.
Andrew had spent four years trying to destroy his wife.
But he had never been the most dangerous person in the room.
May you like
He had been afraid of someone else the entire time.
And that person had just declared war on me.
