Chapter 2 - The Cold Accounting
The police arrival at the hospital was swift. By the time two officers walked down the corridor, the atmosphere had shifted from a family drama into an active investigation. Daniel tried to spin a story, his voice smooth as he attempted to play the protective husband, but the officers weren't interested in his charm.
I handed over my phone, showing the officer the synced cloud folder containing the high-definition footage from my Mercedes' dashcam. The video was clear: Vanessa was behind the wheel, laughing and singing along to the radio, completely ignoring the traffic signals before the violent impact. More importantly, the audio captured Daniel’s voice as they got into the car: "Take Mara's car. If anything happens, we'll just say she was driving. She's too weak to fight back."
The officer looked up from the screen, his expression grim. "Mr. Sterling, Miss Vance, we're going to need you both to come down to the station for questioning regarding a false statement and leaving the scene of an accident."
Vanessa began to scream, clutching her stomach and claiming she was having contractions. The hospital staff immediately wheeled her away, but an officer remained stationed outside her door. Daniel was led out in handcuffs, his head bowed, his expensive image shattered in seconds.
Patricia stood alone in the hallway, her face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. "You will regret this, Mara," she whispered, her voice trembling with rage. "You think you're clever? You're nothing. Without our family, you are a nobody. We will freeze you out of every account, every property, and every social circle in this city."
"You can try, Patricia," I said, stepping closer to her. "But before you do, you might want to look at your own company's books. Because while Daniel was busy buying jewelry for his mistress, I was busy auditing the Sterling Group."
I turned on my heel and walked out of the hospital, the cool night air hitting my face like a long-awaited breath of oxygen.
For the past three months, ever since Daniel had emptied our joint savings account to buy Vanessa a luxury condo, I hadn't spent my nights crying. I had spent them doing what I did best: tracing money.
The Sterling Group was a prominent real estate firm owned by Patricia and managed by Daniel. To the public, they were old money, secure and untouchable. But my initial audits had revealed a massive web of shadow accounts, offshore transfers, and unexplained losses. They weren't rich; they were a house of cards waiting for a strong gust of wind.
And I was about to blow the whole house down.
When I reached my apartment, my phone rang. It was an unknown number.
"Mara," a low, gravelly voice spoke. It was Arthur Vance—Vanessa's father.
Arthur was a notorious figure in the city’s construction industry, a man who worked in the grey areas of the law. He was ruthless, powerful, and deeply protective of his only daughter.
"Mr. Vance," I said, leaning against my kitchen counter. "I assume you're calling about Vanessa."
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"My daughter is in a hospital bed because of your car, Mara," Arthur said, his tone carrying a heavy, implicit threat. "And your husband is the one who put her there. I suggest we meet. Because if Vanessa goes to jail, I’m going to make sure the Sterling family—and everyone associated with them—burns to the ground."
"I agree," I replied, my voice steady. "But I don't want to burn, Mr. Vance. I want to build. Let's talk."
