Chapter 2 - Feeding the Prey
Thursday arrived, crisp and bright. I met Tanya at The Grand Marrow, an upscale bistro downtown where the tables were spaced far enough apart for secrets but close enough for surveillance.
Tanya was already seated, looking radiant in a cream-colored trench coat. She leaned across the table to press her cheek against mine, smelling faintly of the expensive French perfume Damon had supposedly bought for his mother’s birthday last month.
"Renee! You look a little tired, sweetie. Are you sleeping? The wedding stress is no joke," she said, her eyes scanning my face with a terrifyingly sharp faux-concern.
"Just logistics, you know how it is," I said, offering a tight, perfect smile. "Managing the venue, the floral budget... and some weird discrepancies in our banking."
I watched her eyes. A micro-expression—a tiny, split-second tightening of her lower eyelids—betrayed her. "Oh? What kind of discrepancies?"
"Just some bank errors. Our accountant is looking into it," I lied effortlessly, taking a sip of water. "But let’s talk about you. You looked so close with Damon at the party. I’m so glad you guys have become such good friends. It means the world to me that my two favorite people get along."
Tanya reached across the table, covering my hand with hers. The touch made my skin crawl, but I didn't pull away. "Oh, Renee. Damon loves you so much. I just want to make sure he’s supporting you through all this. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."
"He's been... incredibly active lately," I said, leaning in. "In fact, I wanted to ask you a favor. I have a massive three-day corporate gala in Atlanta next month. It’s a huge contract for Caldwell Events. I’m going to be completely underwater. Could you keep an eye on Damon for me? Make sure he eats, maybe check in on him? He gets so lonely when I’m gone."
Tanya’s smile widened, glowing with a predatory satisfaction she couldn't entirely hide. "Of course, babe. Anything for you. You know I’ve always got your back."
After lunch, I didn't go back to my office. I drove straight to a private investigator's office in a quiet corporate park off Capital Boulevard. His name was Marcus Vance, a former digital forensics detective who specialized in high-net-worth divorces.
I laid the external drive on his desk.
"I don't just want proof of an affair, Marcus," I said, sitting straight. "I want to know where every dollar from T&D Holdings went. I want names, assets, and accounts. And I need it completely off the grid."
Marcus looked at the drive, then up at my expressionless face. "This looks like a scorched-earth campaign, Ms. Caldwell."
"No," I replied, my voice devoid of emotion. "An event planner doesn't scorch the earth. We manicure it. I’m just preparing the ground."
Three weeks later, while I was ostensibly in Atlanta for the gala, I sat in a darkened hotel room in downtown Raleigh, staring at a live feed. I had installed hidden cameras inside my own home under the guise of an upgraded security system before I left.
On the screen, Damon and Tanya were in my living room. They weren't hiding anymore. They were drinking my vintage champagne, laughing loudly.
May you like
Then, Damon pulled out a document and slid it across the coffee table to Tanya.
The Hook: I zoomed in on the camera feed. It was a property deed. Damon hadn't just stolen my money; he had used the funds from T&D Holdings to buy a luxury townhouse in Tanya's name. But it was the second paper he pulled out that made me laugh aloud in the dark—a prenuptial agreement he was preparing to force me to sign.
