Chapter 2 - What He Really Wanted From the House
Daniel came to the house at ten the next morning.
He didn't knock like a husband returning home.
He knocked like a buyer inspecting property.
I opened the door but didn't step aside.
Vanessa wasn’t with him.
Neither were the twins.
“Can I come in?”
“You can talk from there.”
His mouth tightened.
“Emily, we’re still married.”
“You remembered.”
“That’s childish.”
“So was bringing another woman and two children to the airport.”
He exhaled slowly.
“I didn’t come here to fight.”
“No. You came here to discuss the house.”
That caught him slightly off guard.
He recovered.
“We should sell it.”
“Why?”
“It’s too large for one person.”
“How thoughtful.”
“I’m entitled to part of the equity.”
“We’ll let attorneys discuss what you’re entitled to.”
His expression hardened.
“Don’t turn this into revenge.”
There it was.
Daniel had betrayed me publicly, then appointed himself the reasonable one.
I almost admired the efficiency.
Almost.
He walked past me before I could stop him.
I let him.
I wanted to see where he went.
Not the bedroom.
Not his office.
Straight to the hallway cabinet where we kept property files.
He opened it.
Empty.
I had moved every financial document to my attorney’s office that morning.
Daniel turned.
“Where are the mortgage papers?”
“Why?”
“I need to see the refinance agreement.”
My pulse accelerated.
He knew.
“How did you know I refinanced?”
He stared at me.
“You told me.”
“No.”
“Emily—”
“I told you I found a way to send you money. I never told you how.”
For the first time, the polished confidence slipped.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
“How much did you send me?” he asked.
I laughed softly.
“You don’t remember?”
His jaw flexed.
“Obviously I remember.”
“Then say it.”
Silence.
I had transferred $240,000 over nine months.
Money he said was keeping his research team alive.
I had believed every dollar went toward salary gaps, temporary laboratory expenses, and housing.
That morning, Sarah had traced the refinance money.
Only $60,000 reached Daniel’s university account.
The rest went to a private medical company outside Geneva.
Keller Translational Medicine.
I had never heard the name until six hours earlier.
Daniel had.
A lot.
“Who is Adrian Keller?” I asked.
His face changed.
That was my answer.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Should I know him?”
Daniel walked toward me.
“Emily, listen carefully. Whatever you think you’ve found, you don’t understand what you’re looking at.”
I almost smiled.
Three years of marriage by telephone, and suddenly he wanted to explain.
“Then explain.”
He looked toward the windows.
“Not here.”
“Why does everyone in my life suddenly hate talking where conversations actually happen?”
“This involves confidential research.”
“And my money.”
His face drained slightly.
“You tracked the transfers?”
I said nothing.
Daniel stepped back.
Something close to fear appeared in his eyes.
“Emily, you need to stay away from Keller.”
“Why?”
“He’s dangerous.”
That was not the answer I expected.
“Dangerous how?”
Daniel rubbed a hand across his face.
“Just let me handle it.”
“You’ve been handling things beautifully so far.”
“Please.”
The word sounded genuine.
I almost hated him more for that.
My phone buzzed.
Sarah.
I looked at the message.
WE FOUND THE $240K.
Below it was an account trail.
The money from my house refinance had gone to Keller Translational Medicine.
From there, it had been divided.
One hundred thousand dollars paid for private medical treatments.
Seventy thousand went into a research account.
And seventy thousand went to a Zurich property management company.
I looked up.
“Where did Vanessa live in Switzerland?”
Daniel went completely still.
“Why?”
I turned my phone toward him.
The property company had paid rent on one apartment for twenty-eight months.
Registered occupant:
Vanessa Blake.
Daniel didn’t speak.
But the next message from Sarah was worse.
She had traced the private medical payments.
Every invoice carried two patient initials.
N.B.
L.B.
Noah Blake.
Lucas Blake.
May you like
The twins.
My money had been paying for them long before Daniel came home.
