Chapter 11: The Man Behind the Scheme

I thought the truth would finally let me breathe.

I was wrong.

The moment I stepped outside the courthouse, my attorney called.

“Genevieve, don't go home yet.”

I stopped walking.

“Why?”

His voice lowered.

“Investigators found something else in the building's records.”

My stomach tightened.

“What did they find?”

“A second set of access credentials.”

“Someone used them to enter your apartment before you ever received the keys.”

I stared at the courthouse steps.

“That's impossible.”

“That's what I thought too.”

“Meet me at my office.”

An hour later, I was sitting across from him with a stack of documents between us.

He slid the first page toward me.

It was an electronic access report.

Unit 1608 had been entered eleven times before my official move-in date.

Every entry had been made using a temporary maintenance credential.

“Who had access to this credential?” I asked.

“The property management office.”

My hands curled into fists.

“Daniel.”

My attorney nodded.

“Most likely.”

Then he placed another document on the table.

“There's more.”

The maintenance credential had been used to access the apartment on the exact dates when Adriana claimed the noise began.

I felt a cold sensation run down my spine.

“They weren't just creating the recording.”

“They were staging the apartment.”

My attorney looked at me carefully.

“That's what investigators believe.”

“But they haven't figured out why yet.”

I looked at the final page.

It contained a list of renovation contractors.

One name had been highlighted.

Marcus Vale.

I recognized it immediately.

Marcus was the developer who had contacted me twice about purchasing Unit 1608.

The first time, I had politely declined.

The second time, his offer had been almost double what I paid.

I had still refused.

I thought he was simply trying to negotiate.

Now I wasn't so sure.

My attorney leaned back.

“Marcus owns the company that wants to acquire several units in this building.”

“Daniel manages the property.”

“And Adriana's unit is one of the units they're already negotiating to buy.”

I stared at him.

“So if they acquire mine too…”

“They control the entire eastern side of the building.”

Everything suddenly made sense.

My apartment wasn't valuable because of what was inside it.

It was valuable because of where it was.

A riverfront redevelopment project needed several connected units.

Mine was the final piece.

I suddenly remembered something else.

The day I signed the purchase agreement, the previous owner had warned me.

“Don't let anyone pressure you into selling.”

At the time, I had thought it was ordinary advice.

Now it sounded like a warning.

My attorney handed me his phone.

“There's another problem.”

An email had been recovered from Daniel's deleted account.

The subject line read:

“Unit 1608 — Final Acquisition Strategy.”

I opened it.

The message was short.

“If direct negotiation fails, create a legal and reputational obstacle. Buyer will reconsider once ownership becomes burdensome.”

There was an attachment.

A payment schedule.

Adriana Ferraro had received money from a consulting company connected to Marcus Vale.

My throat went dry.

“She was paid to accuse me.”

“That's what the evidence suggests.”

I looked at the payment date.

It was three days before the first noise complaint.

Everything had been planned before I even knew I was being targeted.

Then my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered cautiously.

“Hello?”

A man's voice came through.

“Ms. Wells, you need to stop digging.”

I froze.

“Who is this?”

He didn't answer.

“You have your apartment. Take the settlement they're offering and walk away.”

“Otherwise, this will become much more complicated.”

My voice hardened.

“Are you threatening me?”

There was a pause.

“I'm warning you.”

The call ended.

I looked at my attorney.

“They know we're investigating.”

He nodded.

“Which means someone inside the investigation may be leaking information.”

Before I could respond, another notification appeared on my phone.

A photograph had been sent to me.

It showed my three children standing outside their school.

My blood ran cold.

Below the photograph was a single sentence.

“You should have taken the money.”