Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO KNEW MORE THAN HE ADMITTED
"How do you know about the sixty-two percent?"
My father asked the question before I could.
Adrian looked pleased.
For the first time all morning, he seemed to believe he had the advantage.
"Your family isn't nearly as clever as it thinks."
Detective Ruiz stepped closer.
"Mr. Blake, this isn't the place to discuss company ownership."
Adrian lifted both hands.
"I'm having a conversation with my fiancée."
"Former fiancée," I corrected.
His smile tightened.
He glanced at the guests watching from the ballroom.
Then he lowered his voice.
"Three weeks ago, I found a shareholder report that had been mistakenly included in a financing package. It showed Hawthorne's interest and the trust structure."
My father looked at Rebecca.
She shook her head.
"I didn't send him that report."
Marisol intervened.
"We'll determine how he obtained it."
Adrian shrugged.
"It was an interesting discovery. Especially the part about Natalie."
I remembered sitting across from him three weeks earlier while he complained about the cost of replacing my tires.
He'd told me we couldn't afford unnecessary expenses before the wedding.
All that time, he had known my family controlled his company.
And he'd continued calling me his financially irresponsible little bride.
"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked.
"Because I wanted to see what your family was planning."
"My family saved your business."
He glanced at my father.
"Your father bought control of something I built."
"He invested when no one else would."
"Because of you."
The words were bitter.
I stared at him.
"You're angry because somebody helped you?"
"I'm angry because everybody knew except me."
For the first time, I could see the humiliation beneath his arrogance.
Adrian had built his identity around being a successful businessman.
Discovering that his fiancée's family had quietly rescued him had wounded his pride.
But wounded pride didn't explain the rest.
It didn't explain the pregnant mistress.
The forged financial documents.
The medical transport.
Or the men who'd broken into our apartment.
"You're not angry that we helped you," I said. "You're angry you couldn't take credit for doing everything yourself."
His jaw tightened.
Marisol asked the officers to move the conversation away from the guests.
The ballroom announcement was over.
People were beginning to leave.
Some looked confused.
Others looked furious.
My friend Denise, who had worked beside me for seven years, caught my hand as she passed.
"Whatever you need, Natalie, call me."
I almost cried.
One sincere sentence meant more than all the promises Adrian had made.
We returned to a private hotel room with the investigators.
Adrian and Vanessa were interviewed separately.
The officers were careful not to make promises about arrests or charges before the evidence had been fully reviewed.
But the apartment footage, the financial records, and the transportation arrangement had changed the situation considerably.
Two of the men seen forcing my apartment door had been identified.
Investigators were working to locate the third.
Meanwhile, Marisol explained something important.
"The family trust's shares cannot simply be handed to Adrian because he produces a document. Its governing agreement restricts transfers and requires proper authorization."
"So what was he hoping to accomplish?" I asked.
"First, he wanted your signature on a personal guarantee. That's clear. But the materials your father found also contain drafts of a broader agreement."
She turned a page.
"An agreement granting Adrian voting authority over the trust's shares."
I stared at it.
"He wanted me to sign away control of his company?"
"He wanted a document he could use to claim that authority. Whether it would be enforceable is another matter."
Dad sat beside me.
"That's why I created the trust with protections."
I looked at him.
"And why didn't you ever tell me exactly how it worked?"
He sighed.
"Because you told me you wanted Adrian to succeed on his own."
"Helping someone isn't the same as lying about it."
"I know."
It hurt to realize that even people who loved me had made decisions for me.
Different decisions.
Different intentions.
But still decisions I hadn't been allowed to understand.
Before we could say more, Detective Ruiz returned.
"Vanessa has asked to speak with her brother."
Mom looked up.
"Is Eli safe?"
"As far as we know, yes. He's receiving regular medical care. We're verifying the details."
Vanessa was crying in a nearby interview room.
Through the partially open doorway, I heard her saying Adrian had promised the money was for Eli's transplant.
Then her voice grew louder.
"He told me Eli wouldn't survive another month!"
The detective quietly closed the door.
My mother frowned.
"Kidney failure is serious, but a patient receiving dialysis doesn't automatically have only weeks to live."
"Adrian told her that?" I asked.
"Apparently."
Rebecca looked troubled.
"That's the same kind of urgency he used with me. Forty-eight hours. Immediate payment. No time to check anything."
Marisol nodded.
"Pressure designed to prevent questions."
I sat back.
Vanessa had helped Adrian.
She couldn't pretend otherwise.
But I was beginning to wonder whether she had been manipulated too.
A few minutes later, a hospital social worker helped investigators arrange a conversation with Eli Cole.
He was twenty-four.
Pale and tired from treatment, he appeared on a secure video call from the dialysis center where he was receiving care.
Vanessa was brought in to speak with him while investigators remained nearby.
I could hear only parts of their conversation.
"Eli, I thought—"
"Vanessa, who told you I was dying next month?"
"Adrian."
He looked stunned.
"That's not what my doctors said."
Vanessa pressed both hands over her mouth.
Eli held up a small silver Saint Christopher medal hanging from his neck.
"Our mom gave me this when I started treatment. Remember what she said?"
Vanessa nodded through her tears.
"One day at a time."
"Then why are you trying to buy me a kidney?"
She couldn't answer.
Eli's eyes filled.
"I don't want somebody hurt because I'm sick."
Something inside me shifted.
Until that moment, I'd pictured Eli as a distant part of Adrian's scheme.
Now I saw a frightened young man who wanted to live without destroying somebody else's life.
Mom quietly wiped her eyes.
When the call ended, Vanessa asked to speak with me.
I wasn't sure I wanted to.
But Detective Ruiz said she had information relevant to the investigation.
We met in the conference room, with the detective present.
Vanessa looked terrible.
Her mascara had run.
She kept one hand over her stomach.
"I thought Adrian was arranging a legitimate donor evaluation," she whispered.
"You heard him say I wouldn't have a choice."
She lowered her eyes.
"I heard him."
"And you stayed."
"Yes."
That answer mattered.
She didn't pretend she had misunderstood everything.
I looked at her.
"How long have you been with him?"
"Eleven months."
I'd been choosing flowers while my fiancé was sleeping with another woman.
"Did he tell you we were separating?"
"Yes."
I laughed once.
It hurt.
"He told me we were getting married."
Vanessa started crying again.
"I know."
She explained that Adrian had shown her medical invoices and promised a private service could arrange treatment for Eli.
He'd said the $950,000 covered testing, international arrangements, specialist fees, and an advance payment.
"But Eli never signed anything," she whispered.
"Didn't that bother you?"
"Of course it did. Adrian said the paperwork would be handled later."
I stared at her.
"You wanted to believe him."
She nodded.
I knew exactly how that felt.
Then Vanessa placed a folded invoice on the table.
"I found this in his briefcase yesterday. I thought it was another bill."
Detective Ruiz examined it.
The document listed a recipient identification code.
Not Eli's name.
Vanessa pointed to the code.
"I checked it against the paperwork Adrian gave me for my brother. They're different."
Marisol compared the documents.
The patient references didn't match.
Vanessa began shaking.
"That isn't Eli's case number."
I looked toward Mom.
Her face had gone pale.
"Then who was supposed to receive the organ?"
Nobody answered.
Vanessa reached across the table.
Under the invoice was a second page.
It listed an overseas intermediary and a private client reference.
Beside the recipient's details was a note:
Alternate recipient allocation. Subject to donor compatibility.
Vanessa covered her mouth.
"My brother was never the priority."
I stared at the paper.
May you like
At last, I understood why Adrian had been so desperate to secure me.
The kidney they wanted wasn't necessarily intended for Vanessa's brother at all.
