Chapter 5 - Shadows of the Past
By 3:00 AM, Victoria had been escorted off the property in the back of a police cruiser, arrested for child endangerment, assault, and filing a false police report.
The silence that settled over the Rye estate was absolute, but it offered no peace. Marcus sat at the desk in his private study, surrounded by stacks of financial records, bank statements, and legal documents brought in by his private investigative team.
Across the room, his lead investigator, a retired NYPD detective named Frank Mercer, tossed a heavy black binder onto the desk.
"She wasn't just a cruel stepmother, Marcus," Mercer said, leaning over the mahogany surface. "Victoria Vance isn't even her real name. Her birth name is Victoria Vance-Kowalski. She’s done this twice before."
Marcus looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "What?"
"Ten years ago in Miami," Mercer said, pointing to a mugshot inside the folder showing a younger Victoria with bleached-blonde hair. "She married a wealthy real estate developer six months after his wife passed away. She bled his liquid accounts dry, isolated his teenage daughter, and filed for divorce citing spousal abuse, walking away with a four-million-dollar settlement. Four years ago in Chicago, same playbook with a retired hedge fund manager."
Marcus ran a hand over his face. "How did she clear my background checks?"
"She used a stolen identity from a deceased cousin with a clean credit history," Mercer explained. "She had a high-end forgery ring in Queens print her credentials. But here’s the kicker, Marcus—she wasn't acting alone in your house."
Marcus narrowed his eyes. "The nanny."
"Jennifer Rodriguez was never stealing," Mercer said, pulling out an audio transcript. "We tracked Jennifer down two hours ago at her sister's place in Yonkers. She was terrified. Victoria threatened to have her brother deported if she spoke up. Jennifer was secretly recording Victoria for weeks."
Mercer pushed a button on an audio player sitting on the desk.
A recording played. Victoria’s sharp, haughty voice filled the quiet room:
"You think Marcus cares about these kids? He cares about his empire. He’s away three weeks out of every month. By the time I’m done, those brats will be sent off to a boarding school in Switzerland, and I’ll have full power of attorney over the family trust. Touch those pantry doors again, Jennifer, and I’ll tell the police you’ve been slipping narcotics into the baby’s milk."
Marcus closed his eyes as the recording played out. The guilt hit him with the force of a physical blow. He had been so consumed by his own grief after Rebecca died—so eager to find someone to fill the empty space in the house, so consumed by maintaining his corporate kingdom—that he had invited a predator directly into his children's sanctuary.
"Where are my wife's jewels?" Marcus asked, his voice barely audible.
"We located them an hour ago," Mercer replied. "She didn't use a high-end dealer. She sold them to a pawn syndicate in the Diamond District for pennies on the dollar to cover massive secret gambling debts at an offshore casino account in Aruba. We've already dispatched our legal team with an injunction to recover every single piece."
Mercer hesitated, then reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small velvet box and set it on the desk.
"The police recovered this from her handbag when they processed her at the station," Mercer said. "She was planning to pawn it tomorrow."
Marcus opened the box.
Inside sat Rebecca’s simple gold locket. He pressed the small clasp. The locket opened, revealing two tiny photographs: one of Sophie on her first day of kindergarten, and one of baby Ethan, wrapped in a blue blanket, sleeping peacefully in Rebecca's arms.
Marcus stared at the photographs for a long, quiet moment. A single tear escaped his eye and tracked down his face, dropping onto the gold casing.
He stood up, snapped the locket shut, and slipped it into his pocket.
"Frank," Marcus said quietly.
"Yeah, Marcus?"
May you like
"Ensure the District Attorney has every tape, every financial record, every medical report, and every detail of her past identities. I don't want her out on bail. I want her buried under the full weight of the legal system."
"Consider it done."
