I went to the hospital before returning home.
My mother was awake, sitting near the window with a blanket around her shoulders.
She studied my face.
“You found something.”
“Yes.”
I sat beside her.
“He selected me before we met.”
She closed her eyes.
“I suspected.”
“Tell me everything.”
She took a slow breath.
“After I began investigating the money, I found an old document with your name.”
“Where?”
“In Nolan's office.”
“When?”
“About a month before the attack.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I couldn't believe what I was seeing.”
I stared at her.
“What did it say?”
“That you were considered useful because of your position.”
My jaw tightened.
“Useful.”
She reached for my hand.
“I hated that word.”
“So did I.”
She looked toward the window.
“I knew Nolan loved your career.”
“I thought he was proud of me.”
“He was proud of what your career gave him access to.”
The words hurt because they fit.
I remembered the first year of our marriage.
Nolan had asked about my colleagues.
The second year, he wanted to know my travel schedule.
The third, he encouraged me to keep copies of certain work documents at home so I could “stay organized.”
I had thought he was supportive.
He had been building a map.
I told Mom about the hard drive.
She listened carefully.
“Did you find out who ordered him?”
“Not directly.”
“Elias?”
“Likely.”
“Marcus Vale?”
“Possibly.”
She shook her head.
“Don't assume.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because powerful people rarely put their names on things.”
She was right.
The next morning, Agent Harris called.
“We need you to review a timeline.”
I met him at the federal office.
A long table was covered with documents.
The timeline began sixteen years earlier.
Nolan's movements.
My assignments.
Our meetings.
Financial transfers.
Every significant event had been cross-referenced.
Then I saw something that stopped me.
A date.
The week we met.
A payment had been made to a private investigator.
“What is this?”
Agent Harris pointed to the record.
“Background surveillance.”
“On me?”
“Yes.”
“Before I knew Nolan?”
“Yes.”
My hands went cold.
The investigator had followed me for nearly two weeks.
Photographs.
Workplace.
Apartment.
Gym.
Grocery store.
My mother's house.
Everything.
I stared at the photographs.
Then I saw one.
Nolan was in the background.
He had been watching me before we officially met.
I felt sick.
“Who hired the investigator?”
“We're still tracing that.”
“Then what do you know?”
“That Nolan received money shortly afterward.”
I looked at the date.
Three days before our first date.
I laughed once.
It sounded terrible.
“So the first date wasn't an accident.”
“No.”
I sat down.
“What happened to the investigator?”
“He died six years ago.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
I looked at Agent Harris.
“Was it investigated?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Nothing suspicious was established.”
I stared at the photograph again.
There was one more thing.
A vehicle.
Black sedan.
Parked across the street.
I recognized it.
Marcus Vale's company used identical vehicles for executive transportation.
Agent Harris saw my expression.
“You know it?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“A charity event.”
He wrote it down.
That afternoon, federal agents executed another search.
This time, they searched a private office associated with Vale Strategic Holdings.
They found documents.
Not enough to arrest Marcus Vale.
But enough to establish communication with Nolan.
Then came the surprise.
Elias Mercer surrendered.
He arrived with an attorney.
He requested immunity.
Dalton called me.
“He wants to talk.”
“About Nolan?”
“About everything.”
“Will he name Vale?”
“He says he will.”
I met him in an interview room.
Elias looked nothing like the confident man from the recordings.
His expensive suit was wrinkled.
His hands shook.
He wouldn't look at me.
“I never wanted your mother hurt.”
I stared at him.
“You told Nolan to handle her.”
“I meant scare her.”
“She has a fractured collarbone.”
“I know.”
“She could have died.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you do it?”
He looked at me.
“Because Marcus ordered us to recover the drive.”
“What was on it?”
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Payments.”
I waited.
He swallowed.
“Bribes.”
The room became silent.
“To whom?”
“Government officials.”
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“Did Nolan know?”
“Yes.”
“Did he participate?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
I looked at him.
“Why me?”
He hesitated.
“Because you were close to sensitive information.”
I already knew that.
“What did they expect Nolan to obtain?”
“Schedules. Names. Meetings. Travel. Nothing more at first.”
“And later?”
“Access.”
“To what?”
Elias looked down.
“Documents.”
I leaned forward.
“Which documents?”
He whispered, “Contract bids.”
My stomach tightened.
Defense contracts.
Nolan had been selling information.
Not gossip.
Not harmless schedules.
Actual procurement intelligence.
I looked at him.
“Did Marcus know about me personally?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Nolan reported to him.”
My hands curled.
“Did Marcus order the attack on my mother?”
Elias hesitated.
“Yes.”
The word landed heavily.
I stood.
“Then why are you still alive?”
He looked frightened.
“Because I decided I wanted to be.”
I almost laughed.
“You think immunity protects you?”
“No.”
“Then why talk?”
“Because Marcus is going to kill me.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because I kept copies.”
Dalton, standing behind the glass, entered immediately.
“What copies?”
Elias looked at her.
“Everything.”
He gave her a storage location.
The government had just acquired another evidence cache.
But before the interview ended, Elias said one final thing.
“Nolan wasn't the only person inside your house.”
I turned.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“I don't mean physically.”
“What do you mean?”
“There was another source.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
He stood.
“But Nolan wasn't the person who gave them the most important information.”
Dalton looked at me.
“What information?”
Elias said quietly:
“The package.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Elias Named the Real Prize, and Suddenly the Question Was No Longer What Nolan Had Stolen but Who Had Helped Him Get It
The Midnight Call That Turned My Husband’s Perfect Reputation Into the First Lie I Had to Prove
Part 10 of 20
