Chapter 2 - The Six Years I Couldn't SeeThat night, I couldn't sleep.

I sat on the balcony of my apartment overlooking Charleston Harbor.

The water was black beneath the moon.

I kept thinking about Ryan.

About our first date.

Our wedding.

Our first property renovation.

The night he told me he loved me.

I had believed every word.

Maybe some of it had even been true.

But slowly, things changed.

It started with small decisions.

"Let me handle payroll."

Then:

"You're too busy with the properties."

Then:

"You don't need to be in that meeting."

Then:

"I already took care of it."

Eventually, I stopped asking.

That was how control worked.

It didn't arrive like a storm.

It arrived like convenience.

The next morning, I returned to my father's office.

James had prepared a timeline.

Six years.

Every significant transfer.

Every unusual contract.

Every change in company authority.

I stared at the chart.

Ryan had increased his operational control every year.

"Why didn't anyone stop him?"

James looked uncomfortable.

"Because he was your husband."

That answer hurt.

"But you knew."

"We suspected."

"And you let him?"

"We tried to raise concerns."

I remembered.

There had been conversations.

Warnings.

My father had once asked me why our maintenance costs had doubled.

I had defended Ryan.

I had told him he didn't understand modern operations.

I had been so certain.

Now I felt ashamed.

Frank placed another document in front of me.

"There's something else."

"What?"

"Ryan wasn't just taking money."

He pointed to a clause.

"He was attempting to transfer management rights over several properties."

I read it twice.

"Without my father's approval?"

"Without your father's knowledge."

"How?"

"Using a proxy company."

I looked up.

"Who signed?"

Frank turned the page.

"Vanessa."

My stomach dropped.

The woman who had mocked me in the courthouse garage wasn't simply Ryan's affair partner.

She was part of the plan.

I leaned back.

"Did she know?"

"Based on the documents, yes."

I stared out the window.

I remembered her wearing that green blouse.

The one Ryan bought.

The one I never received.

Suddenly, the memory didn't hurt.

It disgusted me.

My father watched me quietly.

"Lauren."

"Yes?"

"You don't have to destroy them."

I looked at him.

"What if I want to?"

He smiled sadly.

"Then make sure you're doing it because justice requires it."

He paused.

"Not because you're hurt."

I thought about that.

Then I nodded.

"I want the truth."

"Good."

"Then let's find it."

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James smiled.

"That's what I was hoping you'd say."