My attorney
obtained the appropriate court authorization once the financial investigation expanded.
The match came back nearly absolute.
Sloane’s unborn child belonged to Elliot.
But that wasn’t even the most expensive secret I discovered.
The divorce settlement Grant had pushed me to sign suddenly looked very different when my attorneys reviewed the Whitmore finances again.
During our marriage, Grant had told me certain company distributions didn’t belong to him personally.
He claimed several properties were controlled entirely by his father.
He swore under oath that some investment accounts contained substantially less than they actually did.
At the time, I accepted a settlement far below what my lawyer believed I could fight for.
I was exhausted.
I wanted out.
Grant knew that.
He used it.
Now forensic accountants had found payments routed through shell consulting companies.
Personal expenses disguised as corporate fees.
Money sent to Sloane’s luxury clothing boutique under fake marketing contracts.
A condominium Grant claimed belonged to Whitmore Development but that had quietly been purchased with marital funds.
And the most satisfying detail?
Grant had signed almost everything himself.
Sloane believed she had invited a humiliated ex-wife to witness her triumph.
What she had actually done was give me a room full of witnesses.
The baby shower was held at Whitmore Ridge Country Club on the first Saturday in May.
Sloane apparently wanted elegance.
She got excess.
Blue hydrangeas covered the entrance.
A champagne wall stood beneath a sign reading:
WELCOME, BABY GRANT JR.
That detail almost made me admire her confidence.
Almost.
Valet attendants lined the circular driveway.
A harpist played beside the staircase.
Guests in linen suits and pastel dresses drifted between floral displays and silver trays of champagne.
I arrived wearing a navy dress, pearl earrings, and the calmest expression I could manage.
In my hands was a
rectangular gift wrapped in pale blue paper.
Inside were no baby clothes.
No toys.
No blankets.
Just paperwork.
Sloane saw me within seconds.
Her face lit up.
Not with happiness.
With victory.
“Rebecca!”
She crossed the room holding her stomach.
Pregnancy suited her.
She looked radiant.
