Chapter 4 - THE PHANTOM WIFETrue to his word, by Monday morning, my ghost was all over the news.
I sat wrapped in a silk robe on the edge of a king-sized bed in Adrien’s secure suite, watching a local Albany news broadcast on a wall-mounted flat-screen television.
“...authorities have confirmed that search and rescue teams are currently combing the rugged terrain near Lake Placid for thirty-two-year-old Clare Bennett,” the anchor reported, her face solemn. “Her husband, prominent corporate attorney Daniel Bennett, delivered an emotional press statement earlier this morning...”
The screen cut to live footage outside the downtown Albany police headquarters.
There was Daniel. He wore a charcoal-gray suit, his hair artfully disheveled, his eyes ringed with red. He looked every inch the shattered, heartbroken husband. He clutched a lace handkerchief in one hand, trembling slightly for the cameras.
"Clare and I... we just wanted a quiet weekend," Daniel's voice trembled through the speakers, dripping with manufactured agony. "The weather turned so fast. One minute she was walking with me by the tree line, and the next... the snow swallowed her. I searched for hours. I screamed her name until I had no voice left."
I let out a harsh, humorless laugh, picking up a heavy crystal paperweight from the bedside table and running my thumb over its sharp edges.
"An Oscar-worthy performance," a deep voice murmured from the doorway.
I turned to see Adrien leaning against the doorframe. He had changed into a tailored charcoal suit that accentuated his tall, imposing frame. He held a steaming cup of black coffee in one hand and extended a second cup toward me.
"He's good," I said, accepting the cup. "He almost fooled me for eight years. Why wouldn't he fool the entire state?"
"Because people like Daniel rely on performance; they lack imagination," Adrien said, walking over to the window to look out at the snow-covered peaks. "They believe that if they construct a lie with enough conviction, reality has no choice but to bend to it."
"And what is our reality right now?" I asked, stepping up beside him.
"Our reality is that Daniel has already initiated the probate process on your estate," Adrien turned his head, looking down at me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. "He thinks he has inherited your father’s remaining patents, your savings account, and total control of the Vance Trust. By tomorrow, he will try to access your father’s primary off-shore server."
"The server he thinks is empty," I whispered, remembering the flash drive currently resting safely in the pocket of the trousers I had worn the night before.
"Exactly," Adrien smiled—a slow, dangerous curve of the lips. "And when he logs in using your credentials, he triggers a digital trapdoor that routes every single stolen dollar directly back into Moretti Enterprises."
May you like
I looked up into his slate-gray eyes, realizing the terrifying depth of the web we were spinning. "And what happens to Daniel when he walks into that trap?"
"He finds out what happens when you wake a sleeping bear," Adrien said softly. "Are you ready to see your husband again, Clare?"
