Chapter 6 - The Woman at the Gate
The SUV came so close that I could see its grille filling my rearview mirror.
I gripped the steering wheel.
My first instinct was to speed up.
My second was better.
I slowed down.
The SUV almost struck me, swerved, then pulled alongside.
Its windows were tinted.
I couldn't see the driver.
I took the next exit toward a crowded service plaza.
Cars.
Cameras.
People.
The SUV followed for another five seconds.
Then accelerated past me and disappeared.
I pulled into the parking lot and parked beneath a security camera.
My hands were shaking so badly I could barely unlock my phone.
I called 911.
Then Laura.
Then Richard.
Richard answered first.
“Maya?”
“I’m okay.”
His voice sharpened instantly.
“What happened?”
“Someone followed me.”
“Where are you?”
“I-94 service area.”
“Stay there.”
“Richard—”
“Stay there.”
I could hear movement.
Not wheelchair controls.
Footsteps.
“You’re standing.”
“That’s not important.”
“It is if you fall.”
“Maya.”
His breathing was heavy.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He went quiet.
I had known Richard for less than a week.
Yet the fear in his voice felt strangely personal.
“The recording is real,” I told him.
“What recording?”
“Marissa recorded Ethan and Chloe.”
Silence.
“What did they say?”
“Ethan tampered with your brake system.”
Richard didn't respond.
“Richard?”
“I heard you.”
“Chloe claims she thought he was only disabling the warning system.”
Still silence.
“And they discussed keeping you weak with medication.”
Richard finally spoke.
“I want you out of the estate.”
“No.”
“That isn't a discussion.”
“It isn’t your decision.”
“I can terminate your employment.”
“Then I’ll come back unemployed.”
He exhaled sharply.
“You're impossible.”
“You hired me.”
“I’m beginning to regret that.”
“You can regret it after we survive Monday.”
The police took my report.
There was little they could do about an unidentified SUV, but Laura confirmed she was contacting investigators with the audio recording.
I returned to Winnetka around three.
The estate gates were closed.
A woman stood outside them.
Middle-aged.
Asian.
Black coat.
Holding a leather briefcase.
When my car approached, she stepped forward.
“Maya Torres?”
I lowered the window only slightly.
“Who are you?”
“Nora Chen.”
I stared at her.
Richard’s former CFO.
The woman Ethan accused of stealing.
“What are you doing here?”
“Trying to see Richard.”
“Why now?”
“Because Laura Bennett contacted me.”
I hesitated.
“You know Laura?”
“I hired her.”
That changed everything.
Nora got into my car.
“Drive.”
I didn't.
“First tell me why you disappeared.”
Her expression hardened.
“I didn’t disappear. Ethan made it look like I did.”
“How?”
“He accused me of diverting funds.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why resign?”
“Because two men came to my daughter’s apartment.”
My stomach turned.
“Threatened her?”
“They stood outside for six hours.”
Same method.
Fear without explicit words.
“You reported it?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“They were gone before police arrived.”
Nora looked toward the mansion.
“Richard was already hospitalized. Eleanor begged me not to escalate.”
“Why?”
“She was terrified Ethan would retaliate.”
“Against Richard?”
“Against everyone.”
I unlocked the gate remotely with my employee code.
Instead of driving to the main house, I took Nora to the detached guest cottage.
Richard arrived twenty minutes later.
In his wheelchair.
He looked at Nora.
Neither spoke.
Then Nora crossed the room and embraced him.
Richard closed his eyes.
For the first time since I met him, he looked genuinely vulnerable.
“I thought you abandoned me,” he said.
Nora pulled back.
“I thought you were going to die.”
“What happened?”
She opened her briefcase.
“Ethan had been creating fraudulent vendors for almost eighteen months before the accident.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-eight million that I can document.”
Richard went still.
“Thirty-eight?”
“Possibly more.”
“And Chloe?”
“She signed several consulting agreements.”
“Where did the money go?”
“Offshore accounts.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
“Why didn't you come to me earlier?”
“I did.”
She stared at him.
“The night you crashed.”
Richard frowned.
“No.”
“I called your office at eleven twelve.”
“I never received it.”
“I left a message with Chloe.”
The room changed.
Richard whispered, “She was there?”
“She answered your office line.”
He looked sick.
“I thought she had left.”
“No.”
Nora opened another folder.
“You had ordered a forensic audit. Ethan found out.”
“How?”
“Chloe.”
Richard looked away.
The betrayal seemed deeper than money.
Maybe because Chloe had been family.
Nora continued.
“After the crash, Ethan deleted the internal audit request and accused me of embezzlement.”
“Why didn't the board question it?”
“They had your digital authorization.”
“Forged.”
“Yes.”
Richard rubbed his face.
“Can we prove the forgery?”
Nora smiled for the first time.
“I kept the authentication logs.”
She slid a USB drive across the table.
“The approval came from Ethan’s office computer.”
That was explosive.
I felt hope for the first time.
Then Nora’s expression darkened.
“But there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Someone inside Vitalis Health helped them.”
The name hit me.
My ex-husband’s company.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Nora looked at me.
“Vitalis supplied the vehicle monitoring hardware installed in Richard’s corporate fleet.”
My chest tightened.
“Miguel works for Vitalis.”
“I know.”
I stared at her.
“How?”
Nora opened a folder.
A list of employees.
Miguel Torres.
Senior Account Manager.
My heart began pounding.
“No.”
Richard looked at me.
“Maya—”
“My husband cheated on me. He lied to me. He let his mother treat me like dirt.”
My voice shook.
“But Miguel is not a murderer.”
“I didn't say he was,” Nora replied.
“Then why is his name here?”
“He handled the Vance account.”
I suddenly remembered Miguel’s late nights.
Client dinners.
Weekend overtime.
Vitalis Health.
Valerie.
The colleague who texted him.
Did you get home safe?
I miss you.
Don't leave me alone with this.
At the time, I assumed “this” meant their affair.
What if it hadn't?
I sat down.
Richard watched me carefully.
“Do you need a minute?”
“No.”
I hated that my voice cracked.
Nora handed me another page.
“There was a software access request made seventy-two hours before Richard’s crash.”
“By whom?”
“Miguel Torres.”
My stomach dropped.
“What kind of access?”
“Administrative control over the vehicle diagnostics module.”
I stared at my husband’s name.
The man I had loved for twelve years.
The man who promised that infertility would never change us.
The man who looked me in the eye and admitted another woman had replaced me.
Could he also have been connected to Richard’s crash?
“No,” I whispered.
Then my phone rang.
Miguel.
I almost dropped it.
Richard looked at the screen.
“Answer.”
I did.
“Maya?”
Miguel sounded breathless.
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“You need to leave that job.”
My body turned cold.
“How do you know where I work?”
Silence.
“Miguel.”
“I can't explain over the phone.”
“Then explain badly.”
Another pause.
Finally he whispered:
“The man you’re caring for—Richard Vance—wasn't supposed to survive that crash.”
I couldn't breathe.
Miguel continued.
“And if Ethan knows who you used to be married to, Maya, he’s going to realize I kept something from him.”
“What did you keep?”
Miguel’s voice broke.
May you like
“The original diagnostic log.”
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