Chapter 5 - THE MISTRESS WHO WANTED TO SELL THE TRUTH
By two that afternoon, Selene's note had reached the press.
I did not know who leaked it.
That was the problem with a scandal involving powerful people.
Evidence did not have to be true before it became useful.
A photograph of the note appeared on three financial websites within minutes.
ELENA MADE ME LIE.
The sentence was written in black marker across a sheet of hotel stationery.
Below it, someone had added Selene's initials.
Julian's attorney released a statement less than ten minutes later.
He claimed Selene had been pressured by "outside interests" to make false allegations against Julian.
He never named me.
He did not need to.
The comments beneath the articles did it for him.
Gold digger.
Unstable heiress.
Vindictive wife.
Corporate coup.
I read more than I should have.
My father took the tablet away.
"Stop feeding yourself poison."
"I need to know what people believe."
"People believe whatever reaches them first."
"Then we were too slow."
Samuel entered with Detective Lena Brooks from the financial crimes unit and another detective from major crimes.
They had questions about the assault, Selene's disappearance, and the missing phone.
I told them everything again.
The tea.
The sedative.
The lashes.
The call.
Selene's demand for five million dollars.
Detective Brooks listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she set a photograph on the table.
"Is this the note you saw online?"
"Yes."
"It was not found in Selene Laurent's apartment."
Samuel looked up.
"Your officer told us it was."
"An officer told the first responding sergeant it was."
"Difference?"
"The officer who reported finding it was not assigned to that scene."
My father leaned forward.
"Who was he?"
"Officer Daniel Reeve."
"Where is he now?"
"Unavailable."
I almost laughed.
"That is a polite word."
Detective Brooks did not smile.
"His supervisor cannot reach him."
Samuel folded his arms.
"How did the note reach the press?"
"We are trying to determine that."
"Was it ever physically in the apartment?"
"We cannot establish that yet."
The second detective slid another image toward me.
It showed Selene leaving her building through the garage at 1:37 p.m.
She wore a baseball cap and carried a gray duffel bag.
No one was beside her.
"That was fourteen minutes before she called me."
"Correct."
"So when she said Julian found her, she was not even in the apartment."
"Correct."
I stared at Selene's blurred image.
"She staged it."
Detective Brooks tilted her head.
"Possibly."
"She wanted us to think Julian took her."
"Or she wanted Julian to think you believed he took her."
That possibility was worse.
Selene was not simply frightened.
She was playing both sides.
My father asked where the garage camera led.
The detective placed a city map on the table.
Selene had entered a hired car two blocks away.
The driver took her to Union Station.
She did not board a train under her own name.
"Did she use another name?"
Detective Brooks looked directly at me.
"We think so."
She placed a second photograph beside the first.
A woman in a cap stood at a ticket kiosk.
The camera angle caught the identification card in her hand.
The face was Selene's.
The name was mine.
ELENA CATHERINE BLACKWOOD.
My father went rigid.
"Where did she get that?"
"We were hoping Mrs. Vale could tell us."
"I have never seen it."
Samuel picked up the photograph.
"It is a high-quality counterfeit."
Detective Brooks nodded.
"Good enough to pass a visual inspection."
My mind went back through years of marriage.
Julian had handled our passports whenever we traveled.
Julian had access to my old documents.
Julian knew my date of birth, my mother's maiden name, and every address I had ever used.
"He made it."
My father frowned.
"Why would Julian create an identity for Selene using your name?"
No one answered.
The bank authorization with my dead mother's signature suddenly felt less isolated.
They had forged Catherine Blackwood.
Now they had forged me.
Samuel opened his laptop.
"We need an identity fraud sweep immediately."
My father nodded.
"All accounts, all jurisdictions."
Detective Brooks raised a hand.
"Do not interfere with an active investigation."
My father gave her a level look.
"Detective, with respect, my daughter may have been impersonated across an international banking network."
"And with respect, Mr. Blackwood, you have enough private investigators to accidentally destroy evidence in six countries before dinner."
For a second, they simply looked at each other.
Then my father sat back.
"Fair."
It was the first time I had heard anyone say that to him in years.
Detective Brooks left us with one instruction.
Do not contact Selene.
Naturally, Selene contacted me first.
At 3:08 p.m., a message appeared from the same number that had called earlier.
YOU SHOULD HAVE PAID ME.
A video file followed.
Samuel told me not to open it until the detectives returned.
I opened it anyway.
The video lasted seventeen seconds.
It showed me on the floor.
Julian stood over me.
His arm moved once.
The camera shook because Selene was laughing.
Then Julian's voice came through clearly.
"Maybe another hundred would finally make you useful."
The video ended.
My father closed his eyes.
Samuel swore.
Another message arrived.
THAT IS THE SAMPLE.
THE REST IS WORTH TEN MILLION NOW.
Her price had doubled.
I typed back before Samuel could stop me.
YOU ARE CONFESSING TO EXTORTION.
The typing bubble appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then returned.
YOU THINK I CARE?
Another line appeared.
JULIAN WILL DESTROY ME IF I TESTIFY.
I answered.
THEN TESTIFY BEFORE HE CAN.
Her response came immediately.
YOU STILL DO NOT UNDERSTAND HIM.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
HE DID NOT MARRY YOU FOR LOVE.
My hands went cold.
A photograph loaded.
It was a scan of an email dated six weeks before our wedding.
The sender was Julian.
The recipient address belonged to someone whose name had been redacted.
The subject line read: BLACKWOOD GIRL.
The message contained only three sentences.
She has no idea what she owns.
Once we are married, I can get close enough to the trust.
Victor will never see it coming.
I stopped breathing for a moment.
My father took the phone from my hand.
His face changed as he read it.
"Samuel."
Samuel came closer.
"Can you authenticate this?"
"If we get the original metadata."
My father looked at me.
"Elena, I am sorry."
I barely heard him.
Six years of memories began rearranging themselves.
Julian meeting me at a museum fundraiser.
Julian pretending he did not recognize my last name.
Julian saying he admired how normal I was.
Julian insisting we marry quickly because he could not imagine waiting another year.
I had believed he loved the woman behind the name.
Maybe he had only believed the name was a locked door.
"Who was the email sent to?"
Samuel enlarged the header.
The recipient field had been digitally covered.
But the file name contained an old internal code.
NC-ARCHIVE-07.
My father saw it too.
"Nathan Cross."
I felt something inside me harden.
The assault had broken the last illusion I had about Julian as a husband.
That email broke something older.
It broke the memory of how our marriage began.
My phone rang again.
This time Selene did not hide her voice.
"Ten million."
I put her on speaker.
"You will not get ten dollars from me."
"Then your father will lose more than Julian does."
My father stepped closer.
"Where did you get the email?"
Selene became quiet.
"Hello, Victor."
My father did not react to the familiarity.
"Where is Nathan?"
Selene laughed softly.
"You really are behind."
"Answer the question."
"Ask Marcus Hale."
I looked at Samuel.
Marcus was the director who had abstained.
Selene continued.
"Marcus knows what Nathan wants."
"And what does Nathan want?"
"Everything you built."
The call ended.
Ten minutes later, Samuel's phone rang.
Marcus Hale had requested a private meeting.
He would speak to me.
May you like
Only me.
And he wanted me to come without my father.
