Chapter 4 - The Shared Past
The board meeting dissolved into chaos within three minutes. Richard was escorted out of the building by private security under strict instructions that the police were already waiting in the lobby. David Vance remained behind in the boardroom with me, closing the heavy glass doors to shut out the whispering executives outside.
"You handled that with terrifying efficiency, Victoria," David said, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sat back down. "How long did you know about Richard?"
"Not long enough to prevent him from getting this close," I admitted, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the gray lake. "My mistake wasn't trusting Marcus. My mistake was assuming betrayal always looks like a stranger trying to rob you from the outside. Sometimes, it's just the people sitting across the breakfast table, wearing tailored suits and smiling while they hand you a spoon."
David sighed, folding his hands on the table. "You know, Marcus wasn't always like this. When he first started working with your company five years ago, he was just an ambitious kid trying to prove he belonged in high-stakes real estate."
I turned my head sharply. "What are you talking about?"
"Before he met you," David said quietly. "He worked for your father's old firm down in Cincinnati. The firm that went under right before your father passed away."
The air in the room suddenly turned ice cold. My father had died of a sudden, unexplained heart attack six years ago—right after losing his entire real estate portfolio to a hostile corporate buyout orchestrated by an anonymous investment group. I had spent years trying to rebuild what he lost, believing it was just bad market timing, high interest rates, and bad luck.
"Say that again," I whispered.
"Marcus didn't stumble into your life by accident, Victoria," David said, looking up with genuine regret in his eyes. "He knew who you were before you ever met him at that charity gala in downtown Chicago. He blamed your father for his own family's financial ruin when that Cincinnati firm collapsed. When he realized you had built an empire out of the ashes of your family's name, he didn't see a partner. He saw a debt he felt entitled to collect."
The room seemed to spin slightly. Every memory of the past five years—every sweet word, every anniversary dinner, every comforting hug when a hotel acquisition fell through—warped and twisted in my mind, revealing a dark, calculating design underneath.
He hadn't just married me for money.
He had married me for revenge.
Before I could process the full, staggering weight of what David had just revealed, my phone—which I had retrieved from my desk—lit up with a notification. It wasn't a call. It was an automated security alert from my Lincoln Park penthouse.
The private elevator had just been activated from the ground floor.
May you like
Someone was using my security keycard to enter my home.
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