Chapter 9: The Money Trail

I didn't sleep that night.

The photograph sat beside my laptop while I went through twelve years of financial records.

At first, everything looked ordinary.

Mortgage payments.

Utilities.

Insurance.

School tuition.

Business expenses.

Then I noticed something I hadn't seen before.

Several transfers from my personal account had been sent to Grant's company under vague descriptions.

Consulting.

Operations.

Emergency expenses.

I opened the oldest statement.

The first transfer had been made eleven years ago.

Twenty-five thousand dollars.

I remembered it.

Grant had told me the company needed temporary cash flow to survive a difficult quarter.

He had promised to repay me within three months.

He never did.

I opened the next statement.

Another transfer.

Then another.

By the time I finished checking the records, the total was far higher than I had ever imagined.

I had put nearly two hundred thousand dollars into Grant's company over the years.

My stomach turned.

Not because of the money.

Because I remembered every conversation.

Every time Grant had asked for help, he had called it temporary.

Every time I had questioned him, he had kissed my forehead and promised we were building a future together.

I had believed him.

Then I noticed something even stranger.

Three months before the wedding, there was a transfer of eighty thousand dollars from Grant's company to an account I didn't recognize.

The recipient name was listed as P. Mercer.

Piper's maiden name.

I stared at the screen.

My hands went cold.

Why would Grant's company send eighty thousand dollars to Piper?

I downloaded the transaction record.

Then I called my lawyer.

“I found something.”

He listened while I explained the transfers.

When I mentioned Piper's name, his tone changed.

“Don't confront them yet.”

“I wasn't planning to.”

“Send me everything. I'll have a forensic accountant review the records.”

I forwarded the documents.

“And June?”

“Yes?”

“Don't access anything that isn't yours. We need evidence that can stand up in court.”

“Understood.”

After we hung up, I stared at the photograph again.

You don't know what they did.

Maybe the person who sent it had known about the money.

Maybe they knew something else.

…

The next morning, I went to work early.

I tried to focus on my new position, but the eighty-thousand-dollar transfer kept running through my mind.

At ten thirty, Daniel stopped beside my desk.

“You look distracted.”

I closed the file on my screen.

“Family issue.”

He nodded without asking questions.

“Take the afternoon if you need it.”

I smiled.

“I'm okay.”

For once, I actually was.

I wasn't carrying someone else's problem on my shoulders.

I was investigating my own.

…

That afternoon, another envelope arrived at my apartment.

This time, there was no photograph.

There was a photocopy of a bank statement.

My name appeared at the top.

I recognized the account immediately.

It was an old joint savings account Grant and I had opened twelve years ago.

I had assumed we closed it years ago after transferring the remaining balance into our household account.

But the statement showed something else.

The account was still active.

And three weeks before the wedding, someone had withdrawn every remaining dollar.

The amount was thirty-six thousand four hundred dollars.

Under the transaction details was a note.

“Wedding expenses.”

I sat down slowly.

I had never authorized that withdrawal.

I called the bank.

After verifying my identity, the representative confirmed something that made my blood run cold.

“The withdrawal was made in person.”

“By whom?”

There was a pause.

“The signature on the withdrawal form belongs to Mr. Grant.”

I closed my eyes.

Of course it did.

Grant had been planning the wedding with Piper while using money from an account we had created together.

But there was one more detail.

“Who deposited the money into the account before the withdrawal?” I asked.

The representative checked the records.

“Most of it came from your personal account.”

I laughed once.

It wasn't funny.

They had used my money to build the life they were now celebrating without me.

…

That evening, I sent everything to my lawyer.

Then I opened the message from the unknown sender one more time.

I typed a reply.

“Who are you?”

I stared at the screen before pressing send.

For several minutes, there was no response.

Then my phone buzzed.

One sentence appeared.

“Someone who tried to warn you before the wedding.”

Another message followed.

“Check Grant's old business partner.”

My heart skipped.

I searched through the records I had saved from years ago.

There was one name I hadn't thought about in nearly a decade.

Marcus Reed.

Grant's former business partner.

The man Grant had once accused of stealing from the company.

The man who had disappeared from Grant's life without explanation.

I stared at the name.

Maybe the wedding wasn't the beginning of the betrayal.

Maybe it was the final move in a plan that had started years ago.

And suddenly, I wasn't just trying to get my house back.

I was going to find out exactly who had been using my life as a source of money.

Because if Grant had been hiding this much from me for twelve years, I needed to know how deep the lie went.