Chapter 8 - The Forensic Trail
For the next 24 hours, I remained in my hospital bed, playing the role of the traumatized, forgetful victim.
Carol and Vanessa visited twice, bringing cheap flowers and more lies, constantly probing to ensure my memory of the event was completely wiped.
Meanwhile, Marcus and his private investigator were digging into the in-laws' finances.
As a forensic accountant, I knew that people rarely commit brazen, sloppy fraud unless they are backed into a corner.
The results came back the morning Daniel’s flight landed.
Carol and Vanessa were completely broke.
Carol’s lavish lifestyle was funded by a pyramid of high-interest loans and remortgaged properties.
Worse, Vanessa had embezzled nearly $100,000 from her previous employer to fund her “boutique” lifestyle, and the company was threatening to press charges if she didn’t repay the money by the end of the month.
They hadn’t just wanted Daniel’s money out of greed. They needed it to stay out of federal prison.
They viewed my unborn children not as family, but as obstacles to their survival.
The door to my room flew open, and Daniel rushed in, looking exhausted, disheveled, and terrified.
He collapsed into the chair beside my bed, burying his face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” he cried. “Mom told me you fell. She told me the police found you.”
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I stroked his hair, feeling a deep, profound sorrow for the pain he was about to experience.
“Daniel,” I said softly. “I need you to listen to me very carefully. And I need you not to react.”
