Chapter 2 - The 5.4 Million Question
Andrew moved faster than I had ever seen him move.
“Lauren, leave.”
Interesting.
Thirty seconds earlier, he had been furious because I was leaving.
Now he desperately wanted me gone.
The gray-haired man introduced himself as Malcolm Reeves.
I recognized the name.
Reeves Financial Advisory.
Andrew had claimed Malcolm was one of his newest investors.
Malcolm looked toward Sophia and Chloe.
“Not here.”
“Then call me tomorrow.”
Andrew stepped between us.
“There won’t be a call.”
Malcolm ignored him.
“There needs to be.”
Patricia’s voice sharpened.
“What exactly are you implying?”
Malcolm gave her a peculiar look.
“Ask your son.”
Andrew grabbed his arm.
“Enough.”
That was when I understood.
Malcolm wasn’t afraid of Andrew.
He was afraid of whatever Andrew had done.
I took my daughters outside.
Sophia cried silently in the car.
Chloe asked if we could get cheeseburgers.
So we did.
At 10:14 that night, both girls were asleep beside me in a hotel suite.
I didn’t go home.
I didn’t trust Andrew not to arrive furious.
Instead, I opened my laptop.
Vance & Horizon Capital appeared on the screen.
My company.
My real life.
I had founded it thirteen years earlier with a small commercial-property fund and expanded through disciplined investments.
Andrew knew I had money.
He did not know how much.
I had never lied about my work.
He simply never listened carefully enough to understand it.
He thought “showing properties” meant I was an agent.
In reality, I controlled projects worth tens of millions.
My phone rang.
Malcolm.
“The note came through a lender in Manila,” he said.
“I know.”
“Do you know who guaranteed it?”
“Andrew.”
“Not only Andrew.”
My hand stopped over the keyboard.
“What?”
“There’s a second guarantor.”
I pulled up my copy.
Only Andrew’s signature appeared.
Malcolm sent another version.
Page seven.
My name.
Lauren Vance.
My supposed signature beneath it.
I stared.
“That isn’t mine.”
“I suspected that.”
My heart began pounding.
“How much does Andrew owe?”
“5.4 million pesos on that note.”
“That’s roughly a hundred thousand dollars. Andrew has access to more than that.”
“Yes.”
“So why forge me onto it?”
Malcolm went silent.
“Because the 5.4 million isn’t the real debt.”
He sent a spreadsheet.
My stomach dropped.
Seven loans.
Three countries.
Four shell companies.
Total exposure:
$3.8 million.
And beside several entries appeared the same asset description.
V&H DEVELOPMENT HOLDINGS.
My company.
Andrew had apparently pledged interests in Vance & Horizon as collateral.
Interests he did not own.
I whispered:
“How?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to determine.”
Then another file arrived.
A corporate authorization supposedly granting Andrew authority to negotiate on behalf of Vance & Horizon.
Signed by me.
Not my signature.
Not my document.
But the company seal looked real.
Only four people had access to that seal.
Me.
My general counsel.
My CFO.
And—
I stopped.
Years earlier, when Andrew and I married, I had given one emergency copy to someone I trusted completely.
My father.
Malcolm heard my silence.
“Lauren?”
I stared at the forged authorization.
Then at the witness signature beneath mine.
My father’s name was there.
May you like
Daniel Mercer.
And suddenly Andrew’s betrayal was no longer confined to the Vance family.
