Chapter 3 - TRACING THE DIGITAL BLOODSTAIN
By mid-afternoon,
the digital hunt intensified,
as I delved deeper into the server Spencer thought I never accessed.
Being a forensic compliance expert meant I knew exactly where people hid their shame.
I found a hidden partition on his laptop,
a digital cellar where he kept the evidence of his double life.
There were photos of a luxury apartment in the city,
leased in a name I didn't recognize,
but with my company's credit card on file.
He had a mistress,
a woman who appeared in dozens of photos,
wearing jewelry that should have been mine.
The betrayal was multifaceted,
a kaleidoscope of greed,
lust,
and cruelty.
The $800,000 wasn't just for gambling;
it was for a fresh start,
a life away from me,
built on the ruins of my bank account.
I watched the bank account in real-time,
seeing a new authorization request pop up.
It was for the final $200,000,
the last of the emergency reserves.
The signature on the digital document was a high-resolution scan of my own,
taken from a birthday card I had given him last year.
I didn't block the transfer;
I tagged it.
I added a hidden tracking script to the transaction,
one that would ping every server it touched on its way to the holding company.
I wanted to see where the money landed,
which offshore bank was willing to hold the stolen blood of my career.
My eyes burned from the blue light of the screen,
but I couldn't stop.
I found a series of recorded phone calls on his computer,
which he had kept for some twisted reason of his own.
In one,
he was talking to a man about "disposing" of the grandmother's property once the will was probated.
“The house is worth millions,”
Spencer had said,
his voice thick with anticipation.
“Once she’s out of the picture,
and Nellie is tied up in a neglect lawsuit,
we can flip the land.”
The man on the other end laughed,
a sound like gravel grinding together.
“You’ve got it all figured out,
Spence.”
“I learned from the best,”
Spencer replied,
referring to Bianca.
I leaned back in my chair,
the room spinning for a moment.
The neglect lawsuit was the most brilliant part of their plan.
If I were accused of elder abuse,
any counter-claims I made about financial fraud would look like a desperate attempt to deflect blame.
They were going to use my own professional reputation as a weapon against me.
I looked at the clock;
it was 4:00 PM.
Spencer would be home in two hours,
expecting to find me exhausted and his grandmother sedated.
I went to the back room to check on Rosalind.
She had found a small notebook and was filling the pages with dates and times.
Every time they had denied her water,
every time Bianca had pinched her arm,
every time Spencer had threatened her.
“This is the testimony,”
she said,
handing me the book.
“I might be old,
Nellie,
but I am not silent.”
I took the book,
feeling the weight of her courage.
I gave her a small protein bar and some juice I had hidden in my laptop bag.
“Hang on just a little longer,”
I told her,
kissing her forehead.
“The police will be here soon,
but we need Spencer in the house first.”
I went back to the living room and found Bianca looking through my mail.
She didn't even look guilty when I walked in.
“Just looking for the utility bill,
dear,”
she said,
with a thin smile.
“Spencer said you’ve been a bit forgetful lately.”
“I’m fine,
Bianca,”
I said,
my voice a flat line.
“I’m just focused on getting Rosalind the care she deserves.”
Bianca’s smile widened,
and she patted my hand.
“You’re such a good daughter-in-law.”
I walked away before I could let the bile in my throat rise.
The digital bloodstain was clear now,
a trail of ones and zeros that led straight to the man I had called my husband.
May you like
The hunt was over;
the capture was all that remained.
