Chapter 2: The Secret Account
David didn't speak during the drive to his house.
He sat beside me in the back of the SUV, one hand resting on the armrest while his security driver navigated through afternoon traffic.
Every few minutes, he looked at my cheek.
I knew what he was thinking.
He wanted to go back and confront Mark.
But he didn't.
Instead, he handed me a bottle of water.
"Take a sip, Sarah.""
"I'm fine.""
"You're shaking.""
I looked down.
He was right.
My hands wouldn't stop trembling.
"David, what did that document mean?""
He exhaled slowly.
"It means Mark has been using your identity to apply for financial products without your permission.""
"Why would he need your signature?""
"Because the application claims I witnessed you voluntarily transferring your ownership rights.""
I stared at him.
"But you never signed it.""
"No.""
"Then why would he put your name there?""
David looked out the window.
"Because he needed someone credible to make the paperwork look legitimate.""
I swallowed.
"Would anyone believe him?""
"That's what we're going to find out.""
His house stood behind a tall iron gate in a quiet neighborhood.
It was the same house I had visited countless times before my marriage. The same place where David had taught me to drive, helped me through college, and stayed awake with me when our parents died.
But I hadn't been there in almost three years.
Mark had made sure of that.
Inside, David's housekeeper, Mrs. Bennett, rushed toward us.
"Oh, Sarah.""
Her eyes filled when she saw my cheek.
She gently touched my shoulder.
"Come inside, sweetheart. I'll make you some tea.""
I almost cried again.
Nobody had called me sweetheart in months.
David guided me into the living room.
"Before we do anything else, we're getting you checked again tomorrow. Tonight, you rest.""
"I need to know what's happening.""
"I know.""
He sat across from me.
"Tell me everything Mark has been doing with the finances.""
I hesitated.
It was embarrassing how much I didn't know about my own life.
When Mark and I married, I had a modest savings account and a small inheritance from our parents. David had helped me invest part of it.
After the wedding, Mark suggested combining our finances.
He said married couples shouldn't keep secrets.
I agreed.
Within a year, he had moved everything into accounts managed by his financial adviser.
Whenever I asked about statements, he told me the paperwork was complicated.
Whenever I asked to see the accounts, he accused me of not trusting him.
Eventually, I stopped asking.
"Do you remember the inheritance?"" I asked.
David nodded.
"Of course. Your parents left you approximately four hundred and twenty thousand dollars.""
"Mark said most of it went into our house.""
"Did you ever see the closing statement?""
"No.""
David's expression hardened.
"Sarah, your inheritance was never supposed to be transferred into a joint account.""
"I know.""
"Then why did you let him move it?""
I looked down at my hands.
"Because he told me we were building a future together.""
David didn't interrupt.
That somehow made it worse.
I continued.
"He said the house would be safer if everything was under one financial structure. He told me his accountant recommended it.""
"Which accountant?""
"Richard Cole.""
David immediately reached for his phone.
"Do you have his contact information?""
"I think so. Mark used to mention him.""
David made a note.
Then he asked, "What about the insurance policy?""
I looked up.
"What insurance policy?""
He went still.
"The life-insurance form in the folder.""
"I never agreed to one.""
David opened the photograph the police had sent him.
He enlarged the document.
The policy was worth two million dollars.
The beneficiary was Mercer Family Holdings.
I stared at the screen.
"Why would he need two million dollars?""
David didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he called someone.
"James, I need a forensic review of every financial account connected to Mark Mercer. Personal, business, property, everything. Start with the mortgage application recovered today.""
He listened.
"Yes. I want the original submission records and any digital signatures.""
Then he ended the call.
"Who was that?"" I asked.
"My attorney.""
"David, how much trouble am I in?""
He leaned forward.
"You're not in trouble. You're the person whose identity may have been stolen.""
"But what if he says I signed everything?""
"Then we prove you didn't.""
I looked toward the window.
The afternoon sun was disappearing behind the trees.
"I should have listened to you.""
David's face softened.
"Sarah, don't do that.""
"You warned me.""
"I warned you because I saw things you weren't ready to see. But I should have done more than warn you.""
He paused.
"I should have made sure you knew you could always come home.""
I covered my mouth.
For years, I had believed my brother had abandoned me.
Now I understood that I had been the one pushed away.
My phone, which David had replaced that afternoon, vibrated on the coffee table.
An unknown number.
I opened the message.
You need to come home. We can fix this before your brother destroys everything.
A second message arrived.
Remember what happens when you embarrass me.
David saw my expression.
"Mark?""
I nodded.
He held out his hand.
"May I?""
I gave him the phone.
He photographed the messages and forwarded them to his attorney.
Then he placed the phone face down.
"Don't respond.""
"I don't want him near me.""
"He won't get near you without your permission.""
A knock sounded at the front door.
Mrs. Bennett appeared.
"Mr. Collins? There's someone here asking for Sarah.""
David stood.
"Who?""
"A woman named Vanessa. She says she's Sarah's friend.""
My stomach tightened.
Vanessa.
Mark's personal assistant.
She had always been unusually friendly with me, bringing gifts after business trips and asking about the pregnancy.
But something about her had never felt right.
David looked at me.
"Do you want to see her?""
I shook my head.
"No.""
"Then she doesn't come in.""
He turned toward Mrs. Bennett.
"Please tell her Sarah isn't receiving visitors.""
A few seconds later, the doorbell rang again.
Then David's phone buzzed.
He read the message.
His expression changed.
"What is it?""
He looked at me.
"Vanessa just sent me something.""
He turned the screen toward me.
It was a photograph of a document.
A hospital record.
My hospital record.
At the top was my name, Sarah Mercer.
Below it was a section titled Emergency Medical Authorization.
My husband was listed as the primary decision-maker.
But underneath his name was another line.
*Secondary authorized contact: Vanessa Reed.*
I frowned.
"Why is Mark's assistant listed on my medical records?""
David zoomed in.
Then he noticed the date.
It had been submitted two weeks earlier.
"Did you authorize this?""
"No.""
He scrolled down.
There was a note attached to the submission.
Patient may become confused or emotionally unstable during late pregnancy. Spouse requests that all medical decisions be coordinated through him.
My mouth went dry.
Mark hadn't just been controlling my money.
He had been preparing to control what happened in the hospital.
David called his attorney again.
But before he could speak, another message appeared on my screen.
This one came from Vanessa.
Sarah, I'm sorry. You need to know what Mark has planned for the baby. He told me the birth certificate is already taken care of.
I stared at the words.
May you like
Then a final message arrived.
And he said you wouldn't be bringing her home.
