PART 3: HE BELIEVED HE HAD MARRIED A WEAK HEIRESS… UNTIL HIS MOTHER’S PHONE CALL REVEALED THEIR WHOLE PLAN
PART 3: HE THOUGHT HE HAD MARRIED A HELPLESS HEIRESS… UNTIL HIS MOTHER’S PHONE CALL EXPOSED THEIR ENTIRE SCAM
The following morning, the hot tropical sun beat down on the pavement at the Honolulu airport, but I felt completely cold, calm, and detached inside.
I poured Derek a cup of pricey Kona coffee in the first-class lounge. I kept my eyes down and my shoulders slightly slumped, perfectly playing the part of the scared, broken woman he wanted so badly to see.
“I am sorry about what happened last night,” I whispered, looking down into my black coffee to feed his massive, foolish ego. “I guess I was just… stressed out from the trip. And I really miss my dad. I panicked when I saw the belt. We can look over the business papers for the company later today when we get home.”
Derek puffed out his chest as his bruised pride instantly healed, filling him with a false sense of power. He took the coffee from me, flashing a smug, look-down-his-nose smile.
“It is fine, Maya. I forgive you,” he said smoothly, telling the lie with disgusting ease. “Marriage takes time to get used to. My mom is coming over to the house at noon with a notary. It is for our future. I just want to take the stress of managing the business off your shoulders.”
We landed in Los Angeles three hours later. We took a private car back to my dad’s huge mansion in the Hollywood Hills—a house Derek was already acting like he owned.
The very second Derek dragged his bags upstairs and stepped into the marble shower, I slipped out the back door.
I moved quickly through the neat bushes and climbed into the back seat of an unmarked, pitch-black Lincoln Navigator that was waiting with its engine running in the alley.
Sitting in the back was Marcus Vance, my dad’s fiercely loyal and incredibly sharp estate lawyer. Marcus was a man who wore five-thousand-dollar suits and used the law like a sharp knife to cut his enemies to pieces.
I slid the locked, secure flash drive across the leather seat toward him.
“They are trying to force me to give them the commercial properties,” I said, my voice completely empty of sadness and filled with a cold, sharp focus. “Evelyn is bringing a notary to the house at noon. I need to know exactly why they are doing this. I need to know what they have on me.”
Marcus did not waste time with useless apologies. He opened his laptop, plugged in the drive, and immediately started searching deep government financial files, secret offshore bank lists, and hidden credit networks, his fingers flying across the keys.
For ten minutes, the only sound in the SUV was the quiet hum of the air conditioner and the fast clicking of the keyboard. Then, Marcus stopped. A scary, confident smile spread across his face.
“They are thieves, Maya,” Marcus said quietly, turning the laptop screen so I could see it. “They pretend to be rich at the country club, but they are drowning. Derek’s supposedly fancy investment company is completely empty. He owes three million dollars to a group of dangerous, unregulated lenders in Macau.”
Marcus clicked on another screen. “And Evelyn… her rich, classy act is falling apart. Her house in Bel-Air has three major unpaid debts against it. She is exactly ninety days away from losing it to the bank in a public auction. They do not have a single dollar.”
I stared at the bright red numbers on the screen, feeling the deep pain of their betrayal down to my bones. “They targeted me at my dad’s funeral,” I whispered, as the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. “This was not a fast romance. It was a planned attack to steal my inheritance and save themselves from ruin.”
“Exactly,” Marcus said, his eyes turning cold. “They want you to sign over the fifteen-million-dollar real estate business to a joint company they control. As soon as you sign, they will borrow money against the properties, pay off the dangerous lenders, save Evelyn’s house, and leave you completely broke.”
My blood ran cold, but my hands did not shake at all. The fight in me was fully awake now.
“Write up new transfer papers, Marcus,” I ordered, my voice filled with total command. “Make them look exactly like the ones Evelyn is bringing. Copy the legal language perfectly. But I want you to hide a tracking mark inside them. And I need a secret camera.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow, looking at me with real respect. “You are actually going to sign them?”
“I want them to commit serious financial fraud and conspiracy on a sharp, clear video,” I said, pulling a fancy, expensive pen out of my bag. I clicked the top, turning on a tiny camera hidden right in the clip. “I don’t just want a divorce, Marcus. I want to completely ruin them.”
Marcus smiled and closed his laptop shut. “I will have the FBI fraud team waiting right outside the property line. Let them take the bait.”
I slipped out of the SUV and walked back into my house right as the shower stopped upstairs. I quickly made a pot of hot tea, setting out the expensive cups, and sat quietly at the big dining room table just as the doorbell rang.
Derek rushed downstairs, kissing my cheek with a fake, treacherous smile before opening the door.
Evelyn walked inside, pretending to be warm while actually dripping with malice. Walking behind her was a sketchy, sweating man holding a notary stamp. Evelyn smiled her wicked smile, holding a thick folder tight to her chest, totally clueless that the pen sitting on the table right next to my teacup was recording her massive crime in real-time.
to be continued…
