Chapter 6 - The Name on the Old Driver’s License
The iPad had erased itself.
My screenshots hadn't.
One showed a photograph of an expired driver’s license tucked inside a folder labeled ARCHIVE.
Name:
Andrew Jason Miller.
Not illegal.
People used middle names all the time.
But another file made the difference.
Andrew Cole.
Andrew Miller.
Jason Cole.
Jason Miller.
Four variations.
Four states.
Texas.
Arizona.
New Mexico.
Colorado.
Naomi brought in a private investigator named Marcus Bell—not to be confused with Marcus Mercer—who spent thirty years tracing financial fraud.
Within forty-eight hours, he found three addresses Jason had never mentioned.
Two companies.
And another woman.
Her name was Laura Price.
She had never married him.
She almost did.
Jason dated her for eighteen months in Denver.
Laura had excellent credit.
A recently inherited condominium.
And a widowed mother with money.
The pattern made my chest hurt.
“He proposed after nine months,” Laura told me over video call.
“Did you accept?”
“Yes.”
“What stopped the wedding?”
“My brother.”
Her brother worked in banking.
He discovered Jason had requested documents from Laura’s mortgage company without authorization.
Laura confronted him.
Jason disappeared three days later.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
“He stole anything?”
“Sixteen thousand dollars.”
Compared with Rebecca and me, almost nothing.
“That isn't why you're calling, is it?” Laura asked.
“No.”
“What did he do to you?”
I told her enough.
She looked sad rather than surprised.
Then she said:
“Find his red notebook.”
“What notebook?”
“He used to keep a little red leather notebook in a lockbox.”
“What was inside?”
“I never saw.”
“How do you know it matters?”
“Because when I confronted him about the mortgage records, he didn't ask what I found.”
She paused.
“He asked whether I found the notebook.”
I thought about our house.
Jason’s office.
The wedding-night chaos.
I had left without searching anything.
Jason was still there.
If the notebook existed, he had probably moved it.
Unless he couldn't.
Naomi obtained an emergency order related to financial records and property access.
Two days after my wedding, I returned home with Naomi and a civil standby arranged through counsel.
Jason wasn't there.
The house smelled like flowers beginning to rot.
Wedding gifts still crowded the living room.
My satin robe lay over a chair upstairs.
The guest-room sheets had been removed.
That small detail made me angrier than I expected.
Jason’s office was locked.
It had never been locked before.
We documented everything before opening it with a locksmith.
Desk.
Computer.
File cabinet.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the ugly kitchen.
During renovations, Jason insisted on installing a floor safe beneath the pantry shelves.
He told me it was for passports and emergency cash.
I had forgotten.
The safe was empty.
Almost.
A red thread was caught in the hinge.
Naomi looked at me.
“He moved it.”
“Then we find where.”
The private investigator traced Jason’s car.
A traffic camera recorded him entering his mother's neighborhood the previous night.
Linda.
Of course.
I didn't go there.
I wanted to.
Naomi stopped me.
“We don't give them warning.”
Instead, we followed the money.
Cedar Ridge Holdings owned a small warehouse outside Plano.
Through counsel, investigators obtained records tied to the fraud inquiry.
Inside the warehouse were boxes.
Furniture.
Computers.
Documents from old companies.
Blue Mesa.
North Creek.
Names I had never heard.
Names Rebecca recognized.
Then Marcus Bell found a lockbox.
Red notebook inside.
The first twenty pages were numbers.
Initials.
Credit scores.
Property estimates.
Family wealth.
Then names.
Rebecca Sanderson.
Laura Price.
Me.
Rachel Bennett.
Beside each name was a status.
REBECCA — CLOSED.
LAURA — FAILED.
RACHEL — ACTIVE.
I couldn't breathe.
Below mine:
Primary asset target: Bennett land distribution.
Secondary: residence equity.
Tertiary: family emergency gift capacity.
I wasn't a wife.
I was a portfolio.
Naomi turned another page.
Amber’s name appeared too.
AMBER COLLINS — LEVERAGE / EMOTIONAL ACCESS.
Then one final name.
LINDA MILLER.
Beside it, Jason had written:
DOES NOT KNOW FULL PLAN.
I stared at Naomi.
If Linda didn't know everything, then who did?
We turned the page.
A single name appeared in capital letters.
MARCUS MERCER — PRINCIPAL.
May you like
And under it:
He picked Rachel before I ever met her.
