Chapter 3 - The Wife Who Was Never Supposed to Read the Trust
Judge Holloway postponed the settlement conference.
Instead, she issued an expedited discovery order.
Marcus was required to produce records for MBS Strategic Holdings, Marlowe Continental Investments, and any trusts or entities in which he held a beneficial, managerial, or controlling interest.
Deadline:
Seventy-two hours.
Preston objected.
Judge Holloway overruled him.
Elena requested a temporary order preventing dissipation of assets.
Granted.
Marcus’s expression remained controlled.
His right hand did not.
Adriana noticed his thumb repeatedly rubbing the edge of his wedding ring.
He still wore it.
So did she.
That realization felt strange.
Two people sitting ten feet apart preparing to dismantle a marriage while both still wore symbols of permanence.
When court adjourned, Marcus left without speaking to her.
Preston followed.
Adriana watched them disappear through the side door.
Elena touched her shoulder.
“Do not go home alone.”
“I need clothes.”
“We can arrange that.”
“My passport is there.”
“Anything else?”
Adriana thought.
“My mother’s jewelry.”
“Fine.”
“My laptop.”
“Fine.”
“And the marriage certificate.”
Elena raised an eyebrow.
“Sentimental?”
“No.”
Adriana looked toward the door through which Marcus had vanished.
“I want to know exactly when this started.”
They returned to Elena’s office.
By noon, the anonymous email had been traced through three relays and a temporary mail server.
Dead end.
The note from the refrigerator contained no fingerprints other than Adriana’s.
At 12:40, Elena ordered lunch.
Neither ate.
At 1:05, a subpoena request was prepared for Calder Rowe Corporate Services.
At 1:32, Serena called Adriana.
Adriana stared at the unfamiliar number.
Elena saw the screen.
“Answer on speaker.”
Adriana did.
“Hello?”
Serena’s voice was barely audible.
“Are you with your lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Marcus is looking for you.”
Silence.
Then Serena laughed bitterly.
“I know.”
Adriana closed her eyes.
“What is Sterling Meridian?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“Tell me what you know.”
“Marcus talked about it six months ago.”
“In what context?”
“He said your divorce had to happen before December.”
“Why?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“Then how do you know about the trust?”
“I heard him on the phone.”
“With whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“Man? Woman?”
“Man.”
“What did Marcus say?”
Serena hesitated.
“Something about transfer authority.”
Elena began taking notes.
“What exact words?”
“He said, ‘Once Adriana executes, we control her position.’”
Adriana’s skin prickled.
“My position?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say my name?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“He said the third beneficiary couldn’t interfere.”
“The dead one?”
“I think so.”
Adriana looked at Elena.
Elena wrote:
THIRD BENEFICIARY.
“Who died?” Adriana asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You told me one beneficiary was dead.”
“Marcus told someone that.”
“When?”
“About three weeks ago.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Serena’s breathing became uneven.
“He said, ‘The dead beneficiary doesn’t matter anymore.’”
Adriana felt something tighten in her chest.
Elena leaned toward the phone.
“Serena, this is Elena Ward. Are you willing to provide a sworn statement?”
Silence.
“I don’t know.”
“Your testimony may be important.”
“I said I don’t know.”
“Are you afraid of Marcus?”
“No.”
Too fast.
Elena noticed.
“So who are you afraid of?”
Serena said nothing.
Adriana spoke gently.
“Serena.”
“I thought he loved me.”
The confession arrived unexpectedly.
Adriana did not respond.
Serena continued.
“He said you were cold. That you had checked out years ago. That you only cared about the house and money.”
Adriana stared at the wall.
Marcus had told her the opposite.
He said Serena meant nothing.
Just business.
Two women.
Two different lies.
Same man.
Serena’s voice broke.
“He said once the divorce was finished, we would start over.”
Adriana’s voice remained calm.
“And the apartment?”
“He rented it.”
“For you?”
“For us.”
“How long?”
“Four months.”
Adriana closed her eyes briefly.
Then opened them.
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because this morning I found out my name isn’t on the lease.”
“That’s why?”
“No.”
Serena whispered something.
Adriana could not hear.
“What?”
“He has another apartment.”
Silence filled the room.
Adriana looked at Elena.
“Another woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where?”
“River North.”
“Do you have the address?”
“Yes.”
Elena immediately shook her head at Adriana.
Do not go there.
Adriana understood.
“Send it.”
Serena did.
A text appeared.
1427 West Alder Street.
Unit 1103.
Elena copied it.
Serena continued.
“I found the address in a folder.”
“What folder?”
“His car.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“After he left my house?”
“Yes.”
Adriana’s stomach twisted.
So Marcus had driven from the mansion to Serena.
“He was angry,” Serena said.
“About what?”
“You.”
“What did he say?”
“That you found something.”
“He knew?”
“He said you were snooping.”
“Did he mention Sterling Meridian?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“He took a shower. I went to his car.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted cigarettes.”
Elena raised an eyebrow but kept writing.
“I opened the center console,” Serena continued. “There was a parking receipt from Alder Street. Midnight entries. More than once.”
Adriana whispered, “How many?”
“Six.”
“Over what period?”
“Two months.”
“And you’ve never been there?”
“No.”
“What else was in the folder?”
“A storage key.”
“Number?”
“311.”
Adriana looked at Elena.
Three again.
The attorney circled it.
“Anything else?”
Serena hesitated.
“A photograph.”
“What photograph?”
“A woman.”
Adriana’s heartbeat changed.
“What woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“Describe her.”
“Maybe sixty.”
“Hair?”
“Gray-blond.”
“Where was the picture taken?”
“Outside a hospital, I think.”
Adriana’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Was Marcus in it?”
“No.”
“Anyone else?”
“A younger woman in the background.”
“Could you see her face?”
“Not clearly.”
“Do you still have the photograph?”
“No. Marcus caught me.”
“What did he do?”
Serena inhaled sharply.
“He took the folder.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
Another too-fast answer.
Elena wrote:
ASK AGAIN LATER.
Adriana stared at the address Serena sent.
1427 West Alder.
Something about it bothered her.
Then she remembered.
“Wait.”
“What?” Elena asked.
Adriana stood.
“River North.”
“Yes.”
“My mother lived there.”
Elena frowned.
“What?”
“Before she died.”
Serena went silent on the phone.
Adriana’s voice changed.
“My mother had an apartment on West Alder.”
“What number?”
“I don’t remember.”
Elena moved toward her computer.
“Full name?”
“Margaret Ellis.”
“When did she live there?”
“About fifteen years ago. Maybe longer.”
“How long before you married Marcus?”
“A year.”
Elena began typing.
Adriana felt cold.
Her mother had died six years earlier after a brief illness.
Margaret Ellis had never liked Marcus.
Not at first.
She called him charming in the way salesmen were charming.
Adriana defended him constantly.
Eventually her mother stopped criticizing.
For years Adriana believed she had accepted him.
Now she remembered something else.
A conversation three months before the wedding.
Margaret had asked whether Adriana had signed a prenuptial agreement.
Adriana laughed.
Marcus did not have significant money then.
Neither did she.
Why would they need one?
Margaret looked strangely relieved.
Then she had said:
Never sign anything that changes ownership of something you don’t understand.
At the time Adriana thought she meant houses.
Investments.
Basic marriage advice.
Now the memory felt different.
“Elena.”
“Yes?”
“My mother knew something.”
“About Marcus?”
“I don’t know.”
Serena spoke through the phone.
“Adriana.”
“Yes?”
“The woman in the photograph.”
“What about her?”
“She looked like you.”
Adriana stopped breathing.
Elena looked up.
Serena continued.
“Older. But the eyes... she looked like you.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Maybe it was your mother.”
“My mother died six years ago.”
“I know.”
Adriana froze.
“How do you know when my mother died?”
Silence.
Serena whispered, “Marcus told me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Serena.”
“I have to go.”
“Wait.”
“He found me.”
The call disconnected.
Adriana immediately called back.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
Elena stood.
“We need to notify someone.”
“Police?”
“We don’t know that she’s in danger.”
“She said he found her.”
“She may mean Marcus knows where she is.”
“That sounds dangerous enough.”
Elena contacted courthouse security first because of the earlier confrontation.
Then local police.
While she spoke, Adriana searched her phone.
Old photos.
Family albums uploaded years ago.
Her mother.
Margaret.
Christmas.
Birthdays.
Hospital visits.
Adriana stopped on a photograph taken eight years earlier.
Margaret stood beside her outside a restaurant.
Gray-blond hair.
Dark coat.
Adriana zoomed in.
“Serena described her.”
Elena ended the call.
“Police will attempt contact.”
Adriana held up the photo.
“This sounds exactly like her.”
“Could Marcus have kept an old photograph?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“And why in a folder with an apartment address?”
Elena had no answer.
At 2:16 p.m., Preston Vale emailed.
Subject:
Supplemental Disclosure.
Attached were documents from Marcus.
Elena opened them.
Two accounts.
Marlowe Continental.
Cayman investment platform.
Both acknowledged.
Marcus claimed they were separate business assets inadvertently omitted due to accountant error.
No mention of Sterling Meridian.
Elena smiled without humor.
“He’s conceding the accounts.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s protecting something bigger.”
“Sterling.”
“Probably.”
Adriana looked toward the window.
“How do we find it?”
“We already requested records.”
“How long?”
“Depends.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“I know.”
Adriana picked up her bag.
Elena immediately said, “No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking about Alder Street.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“My mother lived there.”
“And Marcus has been visiting there recently.”
“Exactly.”
“Which makes it a terrible place for you to investigate alone.”
“I won’t be alone.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“I’m your divorce attorney, not your bodyguard.”
“Then come as my attorney.”
“No.”
Adriana folded her arms.
Elena stared.
Then sighed.
“You are unbelievably stubborn.”
“I learned from my mother.”
“Apparently.”
Twenty minutes later they were in Elena’s car.
1427 West Alder Street was a renovated brick building between an art gallery and a boutique hotel.
Adriana recognized it immediately.
Her mother had lived there.
The lobby had changed.
The brass mailboxes were gone.
The old tile replaced.
But the staircase was the same.
Adriana remembered carrying groceries up those stairs as a teenager.
The building manager sat behind a glass desk.
Elena handled the conversation.
“We’re looking for information concerning Unit 1103.”
“Tenant privacy.”
“Of course.”
Elena produced identification.
“This concerns pending litigation.”
“Subpoena?”
“Not yet.”
The manager smiled.
“Then no.”
Adriana stepped forward.
“Did Margaret Ellis live here?”
The manager’s expression changed.
“That was before my time.”
“Can you check?”
“Not without a reason.”
Adriana showed him the photo.
“My mother.”
The manager glanced at it.
Then at Adriana.
Something passed through his face.
Recognition.
“You’ve seen her.”
“No.”
“You have.”
“No, ma’am.”
Adriana leaned closer.
“You looked at her like you knew her.”
Elena touched Adriana’s arm.
“Let me.”
But Adriana did not move.
“My mother died six years ago.”
The manager looked toward the elevator.
“Ma’am, I can’t help you.”
“Who lives in 1103?”
“I can’t answer that.”
A bell sounded.
The elevator doors opened.
An elderly man emerged carrying a small dog.
He noticed Adriana.
Stopped.
His eyes widened.
“Margaret?”
Adriana felt the room tilt.
The man approached slowly.
“My God.”
Adriana whispered, “I’m her daughter.”
He stared at her.
“Adriana?”
She nodded.
The manager stood.
“Mr. Hollis—”
The old man ignored him.
“I knew your mother.”
Adriana’s throat tightened.
“When?”
“She lived here for years.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Mr. Hollis shook his head.
“After.”
“After what?”
“After everyone thought she moved.”
Adriana stared.
“My mother moved to Briarwood.”
The old man frowned.
“No.”
“She did.”
“She kept coming here.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
Adriana looked at Elena.
“Why?”
Mr. Hollis glanced toward the desk.
The manager looked uncomfortable.
“Maybe this isn’t—”
Mr. Hollis cut him off.
“Because of the room.”
Adriana’s skin prickled.
“What room?”
“Eleven-oh-three.”
The apartment Serena had discovered.
Adriana stepped closer.
“What was in it?”
The old man studied her face.
Then he whispered:
“Your mother called it the insurance policy.”
The elevator chimed again.
This time, nobody emerged.
Instead, a phone began ringing somewhere upstairs.
Mr. Hollis looked toward the ceiling.
His expression changed.
“That phone hasn’t rung in years.”
Adriana stared at him.
“What phone?”
He backed away.
Inside the elevator, the button for floor eleven suddenly illuminated by itself.
Then the doors began to close.
Adriana moved.
Elena grabbed her arm.
“Adriana.”
But Adriana had already seen something through the narrowing gap.
A man stood inside the elevator.
Charcoal suit.
Silver glasses.
Preston Vale.
Marcus’s attorney.
May you like
The doors closed.
And the elevator began climbing toward Unit 1103.
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