PART 3 — THE WOMAN IN THE SECURITY FOOTAGE
Luca called at 9:17 that morning.
I almost didn't answer.
But Phoebe stopped me.
“Take the call.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to know what he thinks he has.”
I answered.
“Hello?”
His voice was unusually cheerful.
“Finally.”
“What do you want?”
“Your attitude needs to change, Jessi.”
I said nothing.
“You're my wife.”
“And?”
“And that house is our marital home.”
“No.”
He laughed.
“You really want to make this difficult?”
“You locked me out three days after I gave birth.”
“I changed the code because I needed some privacy.”
“You took my daughter’s mother out of her own home.”
“Don't exaggerate.”
I looked at Phoebe.
She was recording the conversation.
“Where are you?”
“Miami.”
“With your mother?”
“Yes.”
“And Stephanie?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
I leaned back.
“Enjoy your vacation.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Jessi…”
I ended the call.
Phoebe immediately saved the recording.
“That was useful.”
“For what?”
“He admitted he changed the code.”
“He didn't admit forging my signature.”
“We have the documents.”
I nodded.
Then my phone rang again.
This time it was the security company.
I answered.
“Ms. Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“This is Daniel from Redwood Crest Security.”
“What happened?”
“We detected unusual activity at your property.”
My heart tightened.
“What kind of activity?”
“Someone accessed the private office.”
“Luca?”
“No.”
I looked at Phoebe.
“Who?”
“There was a woman.”
“A woman?”
“Yes.”
“Can you send me the footage?”
“We already did.”
A notification appeared on my phone.
I opened it.
The security video showed the hallway outside my study.
The timestamp was 2:14 a.m.
A woman entered.
Dark coat.
Dark hair.
She moved confidently.
Not like a burglar.
Like someone who knew exactly where she was going.
She unlocked my office door.
I froze.
“She has a key.”
Phoebe leaned closer.
The woman walked directly to the safe behind my bookshelf.
She entered a code.
The safe opened.
My breath stopped.
“How does she know the code?”
Evelyn came into the room.
“What happened?”
I showed her the screen.
Her face changed.
“Jessi…”
“What?”
“That woman…”
“You know her?”
Evelyn stared at the image.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Luca's first wife.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Luca was married before you.”
“I know he was.”
“He told you she died.”
My blood ran cold.
“He told me she moved to Europe.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“She never left.”
I looked at the screen again.
The woman opened a drawer.
Pulled out a folder.
Then looked directly at the camera.
As if she knew she was being watched.
She smiled.
Then the video ended.
“What was her name?” I asked.
“Caroline.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don't know.”
Phoebe was already making a call.
“I'm going to find out.”
* * *
Two hours later, we had an address.
Caroline Mercer lived less than twenty miles from my estate.
She had been divorced from Luca five years earlier.
But the divorce had never been finalized.
I stared at the document Phoebe placed in front of me.
“What?”
“According to public records, Luca is still legally married to Caroline.”
I couldn't breathe.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Then our marriage…”
“Potentially invalid.”
Evelyn looked at me.
“He married you while still married to her.”
I felt sick.
“How did he hide this?”
“Money,” Phoebe said.
“Connections.”
“And probably forged documents.”
I stared at the papers.
Suddenly everything made sense.
The rushed wedding.
The insistence that we keep finances separate.
The way he always avoided legal paperwork.
The way his mother repeatedly asked about my estate.
The questions about my will.
The questions about whether I had insurance.
The questions about Lily's inheritance.
It had never been about love.
It had been about access.
I stood.
“Take me to Caroline.”
Phoebe frowned.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
* * *
Caroline opened the door herself.
She was younger than I expected.
Maybe thirty-five.
Tired eyes.
Messy hair.
No makeup.
She looked at me for several seconds.
Then she said:
“You're Jessi.”
I nodded.
“You know who I am?”
“I've been waiting for you.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
She stepped aside.
“Come in.”
The house was small.
Nothing like my estate.
Caroline led us into the kitchen.
“I knew Luca would eventually do this.”
“Do what?”
“Find another wealthy woman.”
I sat down.
“Tell me everything.”
She looked at Phoebe.
Then at Evelyn.
Finally at me.
“He married me when I was twenty-eight.”
“Why did you divorce?”
“I tried.”
“You tried?”
“He wouldn't sign.”
I stared at her.
“He told me if I left him, he'd destroy me.”
“What did he want?”
“Money.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“Not mine.”
She looked directly at me.
“His father's.”
Silence.
“Luca wasn't born wealthy,” she continued.
“His father owned several properties.”
“What happened?”
“He died.”
“And?”
“Luca expected to inherit everything.”
“But he didn't?”
Caroline shook her head.
“The properties were placed in a trust.”
I felt a chill.
“What trust?”
She looked at me.
“The same kind of trust your father created.”
I froze.
Caroline leaned closer.
“Luca has spent years trying to get around trusts.”
“Why?”
“Because he can't inherit property directly.”
“Unless…”
“Unless he marries the beneficiary.”
My blood ran cold.
Caroline opened a drawer.
She pulled out an old file.
“I kept copies of everything.”
She handed it to me.
Inside were photographs.
Bank records.
Emails.
And one document.
A list of wealthy women.
My name was at the top.
Beside it was a note.
TARGET — ESTATE VALUE: $18.7M
My hands began shaking.
Below my name were seven others.
Seven women.
Seven potential targets.
I looked at Caroline.
“How long has he been doing this?”
She whispered:
“Almost fifteen years.”
Then she pointed to the bottom of the list.
The last name had been crossed out.
Beside it were two words.
DIED SUDDENLY.
I looked at Phoebe.
She had gone completely pale.
Because beneath that woman's name was something even more terrifying.
A date.
Three months after she married Luca.
