Chapter 8 - The Blonde Woman Wasn’t Who I Thought She Was
For the first time since discovering the affair, I felt sorry for Madison Reed.
Not much.
But enough to listen.
Grant did not want me to.
“This is insane,” he said immediately.
Madison turned toward him.
“Don’t.”
“Madison—”
“Don’t say my name.”
Her voice shook.
“You told me Evelyn died from cancer.”
I looked at Grant.
His face had lost all color.
Madison continued.
“You showed me a memorial article.”
My eyebrows lifted.
“What memorial article?”
Grant said nothing.
Madison pulled out her phone.
It was a webpage.
A photograph of me.
My full name.
The headline:
Vance Maritime Heiress Evelyn Vance Dies at 40.
The article was fake.
But it looked convincing.
Someone had copied the layout of a legitimate regional news site.
There were quotations.
A fabricated statement from my company.
Even a sentence saying my husband, Grant, requested privacy while raising their daughter.
I almost admired the effort.
Almost.
“When did he show you this?” I asked.
“Eight months ago.”
“And you never Googled me?”
“I did.”
She looked ashamed.
“He said your family had most articles removed because Chloe was being harassed.”
That was absurd.
Yet sophisticated enough to fool someone who did not know our world.
“How did you meet?”
“At a hospitality launch.”
“Vance Hospitality?”
She nodded.
Grant stepped forward.
“That’s enough.”
I looked at him.
“No, Grant.”
I pointed to a chair.
“For once, you are going to stand in a room while women compare your lies.”
Madison almost laughed.
Then she looked at me.
“I thought he was a widower.”
“And the yacht?”
“He said it was his.”
“Of course.”
“I had no idea you were alive until yesterday.”
“What happened yesterday?”
She looked toward Grant.
“His card stopped working.”
I nearly smiled.
“He became angry. Then the captain said the yacht owner had frozen authorization.”
Madison frowned.
“I asked why someone else could freeze his yacht.”
Grant said nothing.
“The captain accidentally called you Mrs. Vance.”
I looked at her.
“And then?”
“I searched your name again.”
This time, she found the real me.
Recent conference appearances.
Corporate filings.
Photographs from a charity gala three weeks earlier.
Very much alive.
Madison had confronted Grant.
“He said you were separated.”
Grant finally spoke.
“We basically are.”
I stared at him.
“We shared a bedroom until three nights ago.”
Madison shut her eyes.
“Oh my God.”
I felt almost embarrassed for her.
“Did you know about Chloe?”
“Yes.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That you traveled constantly and barely saw her.”
That one hurt.
Grant spoke quickly.
“I never said barely.”
Madison spun.
“You said Evelyn cared more about the company than being a mother.”
The room became silent.
I looked at Grant.
It was a strange thing when someone confirms a fear you never admitted you had.
For years, I worried my career took too much from Chloe.
Grant knew that.
He had apparently weaponized it in another woman’s bed.
Madison continued.
“He told me he stayed in the marriage because Chloe needed stability.”
I laughed quietly.
“Of course he did.”
Madison looked at me.
“What happened to Chloe?”
Grant stepped toward her.
“That’s private.”
I cut him off.
“She nearly died yesterday.”
Madison’s face dropped.
“What?”
“Severe allergic reaction.”
She turned toward Grant.
“You told me she was at a friend’s house.”
He said nothing.
Madison’s expression transformed.
Until that moment she had been betrayed.
Now she was disgusted.
“You left her alone?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh my God.”
“Madison.”
“No.”
She backed away.
“You were with me when your daughter was in an ambulance.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Because you turned your phone off.”
Grant slammed a hand against the counter.
“Enough!”
Everyone froze.
He lowered his voice.
“Everybody is acting like I wanted Chloe hurt.”
“No one said that,” I replied.
“You’re treating me like a criminal.”
“Not yet.”
His eyes snapped toward mine.
That word frightened him.
Good.
Madison looked at me again.
“There’s something else you should know.”
Grant closed his eyes.
“What?” I asked.
“He proposed to me.”
The room went quiet.
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
I looked down at my wedding ring.
Fourteen years.
Then back at Grant.
“With what ring?”
Madison slowly lifted her left hand.
There was no ring now.
But she opened her purse and placed a velvet box on the table.
Inside was a diamond ring.
I recognized it immediately.
It had belonged to my mother.
My father gave it to me after she died.
I kept it in the safe in our bedroom.
I picked it up.
For the first time since Chloe’s hospitalization, my hands shook.
“You stole this.”
Grant moved toward me.
“I was going to put it back.”
Madison stared at him.
“You told me it belonged to your grandmother.”
I closed the box.
Something inside me became completely quiet.
The affair.
The financial fraud.
The forged signature.
The lying to Chloe.
Now theft.
Grant had spent years interpreting my silence as weakness.
That mistake was about to become expensive.
I handed the ring to Melissa.
“Photograph it.”
Grant looked at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Inventory.”
“Evelyn, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Turn this into something bigger than it is.”
I stared at him.
“My daughter nearly died.”
I gestured toward the ring.
“You stole from me.”
I pointed toward Madison.
“You fabricated my death.”
Then I pointed toward the door.
“And you still think I’m making this bigger?”
Grant said nothing.
Madison left fifteen minutes later.
Before she went, she gave me access to eight months of messages between them.
That night, I started reading.
Most were exactly what I expected.
Lies.
Promises.
Hotels.
Photos.
But one conversation stopped me cold.
Madison had asked:
When will you finally be free from Evelyn?
Grant replied:
Soon. There’s a financial deadline I need to get through first.
Madison:
What deadline?
Grant:
Once the money moves, I can walk away clean.
I read those words again.
Once the money moves.
The forged five-million-dollar authorization.
The private investment.
The debt.
The affair suddenly looked like part of something much bigger.
May you like
And Grant might not have been planning merely to leave me.
He had been preparing to leave with my money.
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