Chapter 6 - The Woman in the Hamptons
Rachel Dunn did not want to speak to us.
She changed her mind when Lauren called.
Not my father.
Not a lawyer.
Lauren.
“You need to understand,” Lauren told her over speakerphone, “he’s going to make one of us responsible.”
Rachel remained silent for nearly a minute.
Then she said,
“Come without police.”
My father refused.
Detective Ortiz compromised.
Two investigators waited several blocks away.
I stayed in the city.
My ribs made travel nearly impossible.
But Rachel agreed to a video call once Lauren reached the house.
The image appeared on my screen shortly after sunset.
A beautiful living room.
Ocean beyond glass.
A baby crying somewhere off camera.
Then Rachel sat down.
I remembered her immediately.
Six years had changed her.
The young investor relations associate was gone.
This Rachel carried exhaustion in the way she held her shoulders.
“Clare.”
“Rachel.”
Her eyes filled.
“I’m sorry.”
I was beginning to hate those words.
“Tell me what happened.”
She looked toward Lauren.
Then back at me.
“Matthew and I started seeing each other six years ago.”
The timeline struck harder than I expected.
One year after our wedding.
Before the first shove.
Before the first public success.
Before I suspected anything.
“He told me you had an arrangement.”
“We didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“How long?”
“Eight months.”
“And then?”
“I got pregnant.”
My breath stopped.
“The baby upstairs is nine months old.”
Rachel shook her head.
“He isn’t my first child.”
Lauren closed her eyes.
I stared at Rachel.
“What?”
Rachel began crying.
“My daughter would be five.”
Would be.
The room on my side of the screen went still.
“What happened?”
“I lost her at seven months.”
She wiped her face.
“After that, I tried to leave Matthew.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because he showed me documents.”
Blackwell.
I knew before she said it.
“He had used my credentials to approve transfers.”
“How?”
“I worked investor relations. I had access to internal reporting systems.”
“Did you approve them?”
“Some routine ones.”
“And the others?”
“He copied my authentication token.”
My father muttered something under his breath.
Rachel continued.
“He told me if I exposed him, the company would blame me. Then he showed me messages from my account that I never sent.”
Matthew collected leverage.
Again.
Always.
“What about this house?”
“He bought it after I became pregnant again.”
“With NexusCore money.”
Rachel looked down.
“I didn’t know at first.”
“But you do now.”
“Yes.”
“What else do you know?”
She stood.
When she returned, she carried a locked metal box.
Inside were notebooks.
Printed emails.
Two encrypted drives.
And photographs.
“I’ve been collecting things for almost three years.”
Lauren stared at her.
“You had all this?”
Rachel looked at her coldly.
“You thought you were the first woman who realized what he was.”
Lauren said nothing.
Rachel lifted one drive.
“This has copies of communications between Matthew and someone at Arden Vale.”
My father leaned closer.
“Who?”
“Graham Arden.”
Founder of the hedge fund.
“How much data?”
“I don’t know.”
“Payments?”
“Not directly.”
“Then how was Matthew compensated?”
Rachel opened a photograph.
A luxury yacht.
“Through assets.”
Another.
A villa in St. Barts.
Another.
A private aviation company.
My father’s expression changed.
“He wasn’t stealing millions.”
“No,” Rachel said.
“He was building an exit.”
“How large?”
“I think more than two hundred million.”
The number hit like a physical force.
NexusCore’s employees believed every dollar mattered.
Teams had been cut.
Raises delayed.
Benefits renegotiated.
Matthew had once lectured an entire division about “discipline” before eliminating their bonuses.
Two hundred million.
“What does Blackwell predict?” my father asked.
Rachel hesitated.
“Not just failures.”
Priya, listening from my room, looked up.
Rachel continued.
“It models market response to failures.”
Priya’s face drained.
“That wasn’t in the original system.”
“I know.”
“Who added it?”
“Matthew hired a private team.”
My father asked,
“Where?”
“Singapore. London. Toronto.”
“Paid through?”
“Sable Meridian.”
The empty company.
It had employees after all.
Just none anyone was supposed to see.
Then Rachel said something that changed everything.
“Matthew planned to announce a major NexusCore acquisition next month.”
“What acquisition?”
“Arden Vale’s technology subsidiary.”
My father frowned.
“A hedge fund selling technology to a company receiving proprietary predictions from that company?”
Rachel nodded.
“It would have brought their relationship inside NexusCore.”
“And concealed the earlier payments.”
“Yes.”
I finally understood.
Matthew was not preparing to run.
He was preparing to wash the crime through a corporate transaction.
Then, if anything surfaced…
Blackwell Analytics belonged to Clare Sterling Hayes.
The offshore approvals carried my signature.
The transaction records led toward women he could discredit.
His wife.
His mistress.
His former employee.
Matthew had constructed a room full of exits.
All of them led to someone else’s prison cell.
May you like
Except his.
Until tonight.
