Chapter 5 — The Mistress Who Stole Thirty-Eight Million
Chapter 5 — The Mistress Who Stole Thirty-Eight Million
Brenda thought thirty-eight million dollars could buy her silence.
She was wrong.
It couldn't even buy her a good night's sleep.
At 6:12 the next morning, I received the first complete financial report on the transfers.
Thirty-eight million, four hundred and nineteen thousand dollars.
Gone.
Not from one account.
From seventeen.
Not in one transaction.
Through seventy-three separate transfers over thirty-one months.
Hotels.
Investment subsidiaries.
Charitable foundations.
A private aviation company.
Even an employee retirement fund.
The money had been moved slowly enough to avoid immediate suspicion.
Whoever designed the scheme understood accounting.
They understood people.
And they understood that nobody investigates small losses when everyone is convinced the company is making billions.
I studied the spreadsheet.
“Who authorized the first transfer?”
Jonathan Reed looked at the screen.
“Brenda.”
“The first one?”
“Yes.”
“Not Andrew?”
“No.”
I leaned back.
“Then why did nobody stop her?”
Jonathan hesitated.
“Because every transfer was disguised as a legitimate business expense.”
“By whom?”
“Our internal audit team is still investigating.”
I looked at the final column.
There was a recurring name.
BELLAMY CONSULTING GROUP.
“Who owns it?”
Jonathan's expression tightened.
“We're trying to determine that.”
I looked at him.
“You're trying?”
“We haven't been able to establish the beneficial owner.”
I closed the laptop.
“Then find someone who can.”
Brenda called at 8:03 a.m.
I almost ignored her.
Then I remembered the message from the previous night.
I know what Andrew did.
I answered.
“Hello.”
She was silent for two seconds.
Then:
“Mariana.”
“Brenda.”
“I need to see you.”
“No.”
“Please.”
That word sounded strange coming from her.
She had never begged me for anything.
“You said you knew something.”
“I do.”
“Then tell me now.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because they're listening.”
I looked around my office.
“Who?”
“Margaret.”
I frowned.
“Your mother-in-law?”
“Yes.”
“She's listening to your phone?”
“Not directly.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
Brenda's breathing became uneven.
“Mariana, I made a mistake.”
“What kind?”
“A very expensive one.”
I looked at Jonathan.
“Thirty-eight million?”
Silence.
I heard Brenda inhale sharply.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“It's my money.”
She began crying.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
“I didn't mean for it to become this big.”
I felt nothing.
“You stole thirty-eight million dollars.”
“I didn't steal it.”
“What would you call it?”
“I was told it was temporary.”
“By whom?”
Silence.
“Brenda.”
She whispered:
“Margaret.”
I stared at the wall.
“Your mother-in-law?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She told me the company needed liquidity.”
“Then why move it through shell companies?”
“I didn't know they were shell companies.”
“Brenda.”
“I swear.”
I closed my eyes.
“Where is the money?”
“I don't know.”
That answer was too fast.
“Try again.”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“You have two choices.”
Silence.
“Tell me everything and let my lawyers decide what happens.”
I paused.
“Or keep lying and let federal investigators decide.”
Her breathing stopped.
“You wouldn't.”
“I would.”
She whispered:
“Tonight.”
“What?”
“I'll tell you everything tonight.”
“Where?”
“The old Bellamy Hotel.”
I knew the place.
An abandoned property that had once belonged to Escalante Holdings.
“Eight o'clock.”
“Come alone.”
“No.”
She hesitated.
“Then they won't let me talk.”
“Who?”
She hung up.
At 8:00 p.m., I arrived at the Bellamy Hotel.
I did not come alone.
Three security officers stayed outside.
Jonathan monitored the building remotely.
My father had objected to me going.
I went anyway.
The Bellamy had been closed for six years.
Its lobby smelled of dust and old carpet.
The lights flickered overhead.
I walked toward the reception desk.
“Brenda?”
Nothing.
I called again.
Still nothing.
Then I heard footsteps upstairs.
I looked toward the staircase.
A woman appeared.
Brenda.
She wasn't wearing designer clothes.
No jewelry.
No sunglasses.
No makeup.
She looked exhausted.
“You came.”
“Yes.”
She looked behind me.
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
Her shoulders dropped.
“Then I can't.”
“You're running out of choices.”
She looked at me.
“Do you hate me?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“I deserve that.”
“Probably.”
She smiled sadly.
“I used to think you were weak.”
“I know.”
“I thought Andrew stayed with you because your family had money.”
“He did.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
I waited.
“He stayed because Julian told him to.”
My body went still.
“You knew about Julian.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because I met him.”
“When?”
“Before I met Andrew.”
I stared at her.
“Tell me everything.”
Brenda sat on the dusty staircase.
“I was twenty-six.”
She looked down.
“I was working at a private investment firm in London.”
“Julian was there?”
“Yes.”
“He recruited me.”
“For what?”
“To monitor Andrew.”
I frowned.
“Monitor him?”
“He wanted to know whether Andrew was loyal.”
“To whom?”
“Julian.”
“And you?”
“I became useful.”
“How?”
She laughed bitterly.
“I was good at moving money.”
I looked at her.
“The thirty-eight million.”
“Yes.”
“You transferred it.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I know the companies.”
“Names.”
“Bellamy Consulting. Northshore Capital. Graymont Ventures. Red Harbor Holdings.”
I recognized two.
“They're all connected.”
“Yes.”
“To Julian?”
She nodded.
“How much does he control?”
“I don't know.”
“Then what do you know?”
Brenda looked directly at me.
“He isn't trying to take your money anymore.”
I frowned.
“What does he want?”
“You.”
The words echoed through the empty hotel.
“What does that mean?”
“He believes you're the only person who can unlock your father's private trust.”
I said nothing.
Brenda continued.
“Your father built layers of protection around his wealth.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don't.”
She reached into her handbag.
Pulled out a small envelope.
“This was given to me three years ago.”
I took it.
Inside was a photocopy of a trust document.
I read the heading.
VALE FAMILY SUCCESSION TRUST
My eyes moved across the page.
Then stopped.
Secondary Beneficiary: Mariana Vale.
Nothing unusual.
Then I reached the next line.
Conditional Beneficiary: Issue of Mariana Vale.
I froze.
“What's this?”
Brenda's voice became quiet.
“Your father created a second layer.”
I looked at her.
“If you have a child…”
She paused.
“…control of the entire trust changes.”
My heart began beating faster.
I read the clause again.
“If Mariana Vale produces a biological heir…”
I stopped.
“Why would my father do this?”
Brenda shook her head.
“That's what Julian wants to know.”
I stared at the document.
My marriage.
Andrew.
The pressure for children.
The endless questions from Margaret.
The strange insistence that I stop working.
Everything suddenly looked different.
I looked at Brenda.
“Did Andrew know about this?”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“How?”
“Julian told him.”
“Before we married?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he never tell me?”
Brenda laughed bitterly.
“Because he wanted you to have a child.”
I felt sick.
“And then?”
“Then Julian would find a way to control the child.”
Silence.
I looked at the floor.
For four years, Margaret had constantly asked when I would give the family an heir.
She had called me selfish.
Cold.
Unnatural.
She had blamed me for delaying motherhood.
Andrew had agreed with her.
He had told me:
“We have plenty of time.”
Now I understood.
They hadn't wanted a baby because they wanted a family.
They wanted access.
“Where is the money now?”
Brenda looked at me.
“Some of it is gone.”
“How much?”
“About eleven million.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“And the rest?”
“Hidden.”
“Where?”
She hesitated.
“Under a name.”
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
I froze.
“What?”
“They created accounts using your identity.”
My blood ran cold.
“How?”
“Old passports. Tax records. Corporate filings.”
“Who had access?”
“Andrew.”
“Margaret?”
“Yes.”
I felt something inside me harden.
“So when the money is discovered…”
“They can make it look like you stole it.”
I stared at her.
“They've been building a fraud case against me.”
Brenda nodded.
“For almost two years.”
I took a step backward.
“Why?”
“Because if they can't control you…”
She swallowed.
“…they need to destroy you.”
Suddenly, the lights went out.
Brenda gasped.
I reached for my phone.
“No signal.”
From somewhere downstairs came a metallic crash.
Brenda stood.
“They found me.”
“Who?”
She grabbed my arm.
“We need to go.”
We ran toward the rear corridor.
A door slammed somewhere behind us.
Footsteps.
Fast.
Heavy.
Brenda looked terrified.
“This way!”
We entered a narrow service hallway.
A man appeared at the far end.
Black coat.
Black gloves.
Face hidden.
Brenda screamed.
“Run!”
We turned.
Another man appeared behind us.
We were trapped.
Then a loud crack echoed through the corridor.
The first man collapsed.
Security.
My father's men rushed into the hallway.
The second man ran.
Two guards chased him.
Brenda sank against the wall.
I looked at her.
“You knew this would happen.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Then I noticed something on the floor beside her.
A phone.
Not hers.
I picked it up.
The screen was still lit.
One message remained open.
JULIAN: If Mariana comes, make sure Brenda doesn't leave alive.
I stared at it.
Brenda saw the message.
Her face went white.
“He wanted me dead.”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
I looked at the phone.
“I don't know.”
Back at headquarters, the investigation moved faster.
The shell companies were traced.
The bank accounts were identified.
The evidence was overwhelming.
But there was one problem.
The stolen money had not been transferred randomly.
Every transaction formed a pattern.
Jonathan placed the chart on the screen.
I stared.
“What is that?”
“A map.”
“Of what?”
He pointed.
“The transfers create a route.”
“Where?”
He enlarged the final destination.
My blood went cold.
It wasn't London.
It wasn't Switzerland.
It wasn't the Cayman Islands.
It was here.
My own city.
Then the system displayed the final account.
VALE FAMILY PRIVATE TRUST — SUBACCOUNT 07.
I stared at the screen.
“That isn't possible.”
Jonathan looked at me.
“It shouldn't be.”
My father entered the room.
He saw the screen.
His expression changed.
“Turn that off.”
“Dad…”
“Now.”
Jonathan hesitated.
My father slammed his hand against the table.
“Turn it off.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
He didn't answer.
“Dad.”
He finally looked at me.
“That account doesn't belong to you.”
“Then who does it belong to?”
Silence.
My father whispered:
“Your mother.”
The room went completely still.
“My mother is dead.”
“I know.”
“Then how can she own an account?”
My father looked at the screen.
“Because someone has been using her identity for fourteen years.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
Then Jonathan's computer beeped.
A new transaction had appeared.
TRANSFER AUTHORIZED.
AMOUNT: $1,000,000.
SOURCE: VALE FAMILY PRIVATE TRUST.
DESTINATION: JULIAN CROSS FOUNDATION.
I looked at my father.
“Dad…”
His face had gone pale.
The screen updated.
AUTHORIZED BY: MARIANA VALE.
I froze.
“I didn't authorize that.”
My father stared at me.
“I know.”
Another alert appeared.
LAW ENFORCEMENT FRAUD NOTICE GENERATED.
My heart stopped.
Someone had just moved one million dollars using my name.
And they had done it from inside my father's private trust.
Brenda's warning echoed in my head.
If they can't control you, they need to destroy you.
I looked at the screen.
Then at my father.
Then at the contract Andrew had never read.
The war had changed.
This was no longer about my marriage.
It wasn't even about Andrew.
Someone was preparing to make me look like a criminal.
May you like
And the person who knew how to stop it…
might be the same person who had spent four years pretending to love me.
