Chapter 7 - VanessaWe found Vanessa at a private hotel in downtown Seattle.
She opened the door herself.
Her face was swollen from crying.
She looked at me.
Then Ethan.
Then the compass.
“It's started,” she whispered.
“What has?”
She stepped aside.
“Come in.”
I didn't move.
“I'm not coming anywhere until you tell me why thirty-two million dollars was transferred to you.”
She closed her eyes.
“Because I was trying to get it back.”
“Back to whom?”
“Your father.”
“You said he was dead.”
“So did everyone else.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Who are you really working for?”
She laughed bitterly.
“You still don't understand?”
“No.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“My father worked for Claire's father.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
“He disappeared after your mother died.”
“Why?”
“Because he tried to expose the network.”
She touched her face.
“They killed him.”
I said nothing.
She continued.
“For years I thought your father was one of them.”
“And now?”
“Now I know he was trying to destroy them from inside.”
“Then why were you with Ethan?”
She looked at him.
“Because Ethan was the only way I could get close to the records.”
I felt a strange sting.
“So none of it was real.”
She shook her head.
“The affair was partly real.”
Ethan stiffened.
Vanessa smiled sadly.
“You needed someone to hate.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“You've spent eight months believing Vanessa was the other woman.”
She paused.
“I was.”
“Then why help me?”
“Because Ethan wasn't the man who betrayed you.”
I almost laughed.
“He slept with you.”
“Yes.”
“He lied.”
“Yes.”
“He told me marrying me was a mistake.”
Vanessa looked down.
“He said that because someone was listening.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
She pointed toward the ceiling.
“There are microphones in your house.”
I looked at Ethan.
He nodded.
“I found one last month.”
“One?”
“There were six.”
Six.
My home had been listening to me.
My marriage had been monitored.
Every conversation.
Every argument.
Every phone call.
Vanessa walked to a safe.
Inside were files.
“Your father gave these to me three weeks ago.”
I opened one.
Bank transfers.
Shell corporations.
Names.
Payments.
At the bottom of one page was a familiar surname.
MILLER.
Ethan's father.
Another page.
BENNETT.
My father.
Another.
REED.
Vanessa's.
Three families.
One network.
Then I saw a fourth name.
I stopped.
Claire Bennett.
My name was attached to twelve transfers.
Dating back to when I was twenty-two.
“That’s impossible.”
Vanessa's voice softened.
“They used your identity.”
I kept turning pages.
Then I found a photograph.
It showed my father standing beside a younger man.
The man was smiling.
I recognized him instantly.
Ethan.
But the photograph had been taken sixteen years ago.
I looked at my husband.
“You knew my father before we met.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-one.”
My voice trembled.
“And you didn't tell me.”
“I was ordered not to.”
“By whom?”
He looked at Vanessa.
She answered for him.
“His father.”
Silence.
I stared at Ethan.
“You didn't marry me by accident.”
He didn't speak.
I stepped backward.
“You were sent to me.”
He finally looked up.
“I was.”
My heart shattered all over again.
Then he said:
May you like
“But I fell in love with you.”
And behind him, the hotel window exploded.
