Chapter 7 - Seventy thousand dollars
Vanessa had transferred the money over five months.
$20,000.
$15,000.
$25,000.
$10,000.
Mitchell told her it would fund renovations before they moved into the townhouse together.
No major renovations had occurred.
“So where is my money?”
Mitchell snapped:
“Invested.”
“Where?”
“Projects.”
“What projects?”
He had no answer.
Megan asked Vanessa whether she had transfer records.
“Yes.”
“Messages describing the purpose?”
“Yes.”
Mitchell glared at her.
“Don’t give her anything.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“You told me Danielle knew about us.”
That hurt.
Not because I believed him capable of honesty.
Because Vanessa apparently believed I had agreed to my own humiliation.
“What exactly did he tell you?”
“That you two had been separated emotionally for years. That you were waiting until after the house refinance to divide assets.”
I closed my eyes.
The refinance.
He had built different versions for everyone.
To me: business debt.
To Vanessa: divorce settlement.
To Theresa: probably something else.
“What did he tell you?” I asked his mother.
She crossed her arms.
“That the refinance would repay him for supporting you.”
I actually laughed.
It was the first genuine laugh of the day.
Theresa looked offended.
“What’s funny?”
“Mitchell told three women three different stories about the same $310,000.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Megan noticed another detail.
Vanessa’s transfers had gone into one of the secret accounts.
But substantial amounts left shortly afterward.
Recipient:
M.R. Holdings.
“Do you recognize that?”
Vanessa shook her head.
I didn’t.
Theresa did.
Her reaction lasted half a second.
Enough.
“Theresa?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“No.”
Mitchell stepped toward me.
“Stop interrogating my mother.”
That confirmed it.
Megan searched the publicly available corporate information.
M.R. Holdings LLC.
Registered six months earlier.
Mailing address linked to a commercial mailbox.
Manager:
Theresa Reeves.
I looked at my mother-in-law.
She stopped pretending.
The woman who threw a skillet at my head that morning had her own company.
And my husband had transferred more than $90,000 into it.
“Why?”
She said nothing.
“Where is the money?”
Still nothing.
Then Vanessa asked:
“Is that my seventy thousand?”
Theresa looked toward the stairs.
May you like
That was when I realized she wasn’t thinking about an answer.
She was thinking about leaving.
