We returned to Vance headquarters before dawn.
Michael had already contacted the forensic team, and by the time we entered the building, every screen in the investigation room was filled with records.
Victor Hale had disappeared seventeen months earlier.
Not resigned.
Disappeared.
His company car had been found near a train station outside the city. His phone had been switched off. His bank accounts had gone untouched.
Aaron had known.
He had hidden it.
And somehow, despite that deception, the financial transfers had continued.
"Show me everything," I said.
The lead investigator projected Victor's last known movements.
There was nothing remarkable until the final twelve hours.
He had visited Vanguard headquarters.
Then a private law office.
Then the airport.
After that, nothing.
Michael leaned toward the screen.
"Was he leaving the country?"
"Possibly."
The investigator changed the display.
"His passport was never used."
Aaron stood at the back of the room.
"Then someone helped him disappear."
No one answered.
A second investigator entered with another file.
"We found an encrypted drive."
My attention shifted immediately.
"Where?"
"In an archived equipment locker registered under Mr. Hale's name."
The drive was small and black, with no markings.
The encryption took almost two hours to break.
When the files opened, we found hundreds of documents.
Contracts.
Bank statements.
Photographs.
Emails.
And a folder labeled simply V.
I opened it.
The first photograph showed Victor standing outside a restaurant.
He was speaking to a woman.
I stared at the screen.
It was Jasmine.
Michael swore under his breath.
Aaron stepped forward.
"No."
I enlarged the image.
The date was eighteen months earlier.
Jasmine had been meeting Victor before she became Aaron's secretary.
The next photograph showed them entering the same building.
Then another.
And another.
They had met repeatedly.
This was not an affair.
It was a business relationship.
I opened the correspondence.
Victor had been sending Jasmine information about Vanguard's finances.
She had been supplying him with internal schedules.
And one particular name appeared repeatedly.
Alyssa Vance.
Me.
My stomach turned.
I kept reading.
They had been tracking my involvement with Vanguard.
They knew about the family loan.
They knew about the patent licenses.
They knew which board members trusted me.
They even knew the date of my quarterly review meetings.
"They were preparing for something," Michael said.
I nodded.
"What?"
The answer came from the next file.
A plan to force me out of Vanguard.
Not through divorce.
Through scandal.
The documents described a fabricated financial irregularity that would make it appear I had secretly diverted Vance funds into Vanguard.
If it worked, I would become the target of an investigation.
Aaron would publicly distance himself from me.
Vanguard would survive.
And Jasmine would eventually become part of the executive circle.
I looked at Aaron.
He was pale.
"You never knew."
"No."
"You were supposed to blame me."
He nodded slowly.
"They wanted you to think I was responsible."
I returned to the documents.
Then I saw a name I recognized.
Not Victor.
Not Jasmine.
Someone else.
Daniel Prescott.
Aaron's father.
The room fell silent.
Aaron stared at the screen.
"My father?"
Michael opened another file.
Payments had been made to an account connected to Daniel.
The amounts were smaller than the missing sixty million, but the timing matched.
Aaron shook his head.
"That can't be right."
I looked at him.
"You said your father handled some of Vanguard's early investments."
"He did."
"Then he had access."
Aaron sat down.
"My father helped me secure the first institutional financing."
"How much?"
"Twenty million."
Michael checked the records.
"Thirty-five."
Aaron looked at him.
"What?"
"Your father put thirty-five million into Vanguard."
Aaron shook his head.
"He never told me that."
The investigator found another document.
"There's more."
A series of emails between Daniel Prescott and Victor.
They discussed the Vance family.
They discussed my inheritance.
They discussed Aaron's marriage.
And then one sentence appeared.
"The boy believes the company is his. Let him believe it."
Aaron covered his mouth.
His mother had always said I was lucky to marry into the Prescott family.
His father had always called me "sweetheart" while asking questions about my family's business.
Suddenly every dinner conversation felt different.
Every question.
Every compliment.
Every casual remark about my inheritance.
I looked at Aaron.
"Your father knew."
Aaron stood abruptly.
"I need to speak to him."
"You can't."
"He's my father."
"And he may be involved in a financial conspiracy."
Aaron stopped.
The investigator pointed to another file.
"There's a recent payment."
I moved closer.
The date was three days ago.
The amount was ten million dollars.
The recipient was an account registered under a shell company.
The beneficial owner was Jasmine Miller.
Aaron stared at the screen.
"She was still being paid."
"Yes."
"By whom?"
The investigator enlarged the transfer record.
Daniel Prescott.
Aaron stepped backward.
His chair struck the wall.
For several seconds, no one moved.
Then Aaron said quietly, "My father paid her."
I nodded.
"And he paid Victor."
The evidence was beginning to form a complete circle.
But one piece remained missing.
Where was Victor?
The encrypted drive contained a location file.
Coordinates.
Michael entered them into the map.
The location was an old coastal warehouse owned by a company connected to Daniel Prescott.
Aaron stared at it.
"My father owns that property."
"Apparently."
We left immediately.
The warehouse stood beyond the industrial district, hidden behind a row of abandoned shipping buildings.
The gate was unlocked.
Inside, dust covered the concrete floor.
There were empty offices.
Broken furniture.
A dead security camera.
Then Michael found a locked room.
The door had recently been opened.
The dust near the handle was disturbed.
We entered.
A chair stood in the middle.
Beside it was a table.
On the table was a glass of water.
Fresh.
Someone had been there recently.
Aaron looked around.
"Victor."
We searched every room.
Nothing.
Then I noticed a small envelope taped beneath the table.
My name was written on it.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Victor was standing beside a hospital bed.
The person lying in the bed was badly injured.
But the face was visible.
Victor.
Alive.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written:
"He knows what your husband doesn't."
I looked at Aaron.
"What does he know?"
Before he could answer, a sound came from the corridor.
Footsteps.
We turned.
A man appeared in the doorway.
Older.
Thinner.
His left cheek carried a deep scar.
But I recognized him immediately.
Victor Hale.
He raised both hands.
"Don't call the police."
Aaron stared at him.
"You disappeared."
Victor looked at him.
"I had to."
"Why?"
Victor's eyes moved to me.
"Because your father wanted me dead."
Aaron went completely still.
Victor continued.
"And because Jasmine wasn't working for him."
He looked directly at me.
"She was working for someone else."
Click Here to continue read next: PART7: Victor Finally Told Me Why He Disappeared, and the Last Piece of the Scheme Revealed Who Had Been Pulling Everyone’s Strings
She Took My Seat Before Takeoff, and My Husband Made It Clear Whose Comfort Mattered More Than Four Years of Marriage
Part 6 of 8
