Chapter 3 - THE SECRET ACCOUNT IN HER NAME
Vincent drove to Claire’s townhouse himself.
No driver.
No security convoy.
Just anger, confusion, and a folder on the passenger seat.
Claire opened the door wearing soft gray pajamas.
She looked exhausted.
“What happened?”
He held up the documents.
“We need to talk.”
She glanced toward the stairs.
“Lily is sleeping.”
“I’ll be quiet.”
Claire stepped aside.
Vincent entered.
The townhouse was small compared with their mansion.
Warm lamps.
Books.
Lily’s artwork taped to the refrigerator.
A half-built castle still sat on the living room floor.
Vincent’s throat tightened when he saw it.
The same castle Claire had been building when he asked for divorce.
She noticed his gaze.
“Lily wanted to finish it.”
He looked away.
Claire sat at the kitchen table.
“What’s wrong?”
Vincent slid the papers toward her.
“Bennett Capital Partners.”
She read the first page.
Her expression changed.
“I’ve never seen this.”
“It’s registered under your maiden name.”
“That doesn’t mean I registered it.”
“Five years ago.”
She looked up.
“You think I secretly created an investment company before our wedding?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
Claire laughed once.
Cold.
“Wonderful.”
“Claire—”
“No. Let’s establish something.”
She stood.
“You asked for the divorce.”
“Yes.”
“You told me our marriage bored you.”
His jaw tightened.
“I didn’t use that word exactly.”
“You used predictable.”
“That isn’t—”
“It was close enough.”
She folded her arms.
“So if you came here to accuse me of trying to ruin your company because I didn’t collapse when you left, save your breath.”
Vincent felt ashamed immediately.
“I’m not accusing you.”
“You arrived at eleven at night with evidence and no warning.”
“Because someone is using your name.”
That stopped her.
He lowered his voice.
“I’m worried.”
Claire looked back at the documents.
“Who registered it?”
“We don’t know.”
She read the address.
Then froze.
“What?”
“That address.”
Vincent leaned closer.
“You recognize it?”
Claire nodded.
“My father’s old law office.”
Vincent stared.
Claire’s father, Henry Bennett, had died six years earlier.
Heart attack.
Sudden.
Three months before Vincent proposed.
“Your father?”
“He practiced there until he died.”
Vincent sat.
Claire opened the corporate filing history.
The registered agent was listed as H. Bennett.
Her hands went cold.
“That’s impossible.”
Vincent’s instincts sharpened.
“What?”
“My father hated investment companies.”
“Maybe it wasn’t him.”
Claire continued scanning.
Then found a beneficiary designation.
Her name.
Claire Elizabeth Bennett.
She looked at Vincent.
“This company belongs to me.”
“Apparently.”
“But I never knew.”
Vincent watched the color leave her face.
“How much is it worth?”
He hesitated.
“Based on what we can see?”
“Yes.”
“At least sixty million.”
Claire sat down abruptly.
“Sixty million dollars?”
“Possibly more.”
She stared at the papers.
All those years.
Budgeting groceries.
Leaving her job.
Letting Vincent believe she depended entirely on him financially.
And somewhere, a company had existed in her name.
Vincent’s phone rang.
Marco.
“What?”
“Boss, we found something about Bennett Capital.”
Vincent put him on speaker.
Claire listened.
Marco continued.
“Henry Bennett was investigating Moretti Hotels before he died.”
Claire frowned.
“My father?”
Vincent became still.
“For what?”
“Money laundering.”
Silence.
Claire looked at Vincent.
He looked genuinely shocked.
Marco continued.
“But there’s something strange. Henry wasn’t investigating your division.”
“Whose?”
“Your uncle Salvatore’s.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
Salvatore Moretti had been killed four years ago in what everyone believed was a rival-family dispute.
Marco lowered his voice.
“Henry transferred control of Bennett Capital twelve hours before his death.”
“To Claire?”
“No.”
Vincent frowned.
“Then who?”
Marco answered.
“To a trust.”
“For whom?”
Marco hesitated.
“Lily.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“My daughter?”
“Yes.”
Then came the part neither of them expected.
“The trust becomes fully active if Vincent Moretti files for divorce.”
Claire and Vincent stared at each other.
May you like
Marco finished:
“Which means Henry Bennett somehow knew, six years ago, that your marriage would eventually end.”
