Chapter 8 - The Private Eye's Discovery
Over the weekend,
the tension in the penthouse was thick enough to cut with a knife,
though Grant seemed entirely oblivious to it.
He spent most of his time on the phone,
laughing and talking with Cynthia,
planning their future success.
I watched them from a distance,
a silent ghost in my own home,
waiting for the hours to pass.
On Sunday evening,
Marcus,
the private investigator,
sent a secure message to my private email account.
It contained a series of photographs and a short video clip that made my breath catch in my throat.
The photos showed Cynthia meeting with a shady-looking man in a dark corner of a local coffee shop.
The man was holding a folder,
which he handed to her in exchange for a thick envelope of cash.
Marcus had followed the man and identified him as a medical clerk from the very clinic where I had my ultrasound.
The video showed Cynthia speaking to him,
her face tense and demanding as she snatched the folder from his hands.
I called Marcus immediately,
my heart pounding in my chest.
"What is in that folder,
Marcus?"
I asked,
not waiting for him to say hello.
"It contains your medical records,
Vivienne,"
Marcus replied,
his voice grim on the other end of the line.
"She paid him to steal your private health files,
specifically your psychological history and the records of your pregnancy."
"They were looking for any pre-existing conditions or therapist notes they could alter to make you look unstable."
"They were planning to use forged medical documents in the custody hearing."
The sheer criminality of their actions left me speechless for a moment.
They weren't just greedy,
they were dangerous,
willing to break the law and ruin lives to get what they wanted.
"Did you get proof of the transaction?"
I asked,
my voice shaking with a mixture of anger and fear.
"Yes,"
Marcus confirmed.
"I have clear footage of the money exchange,
and I've already contacted the clinic's director."
"The clerk has been suspended,
and he is currently cooperating with the police to avoid jail time."
"He has confessed that Cynthia Vance paid him to access your files."
I closed my eyes,
a single tear of relief escaping down my cheek.
They had crossed a line,
moving from emotional abuse to actual criminal activity,
and in doing so,
they had sealed their own fate.
"Does Grant know about this?"
I asked,
wondering if my husband was accomplice to a felony.
"According to the clerk,
only Cynthia contacted him,"
Marcus said.
"But Grant’s name is on the emails discussing the plan to use the records."
"He might not have paid the bribe,
but he was definitely going to benefit from it."
"Thank you,
Marcus,"
I said,
hanging up the phone and staring out the window at the glittering city lights.
They thought they were the predators,
and I was the prey.
But they didn't realize that the quietest waters are often the deepest,
and the most dangerous.
Tomorrow was Monday,
May you like
the day the contract would be signed,
and the day their empire would fall.
