Chapter 6 - Tomorrow Morning

The anonymous messages knew too much.

Claire traced the number.

Prepaid.

Purchased with cash.

No useful surveillance.

But the warning gave us a deadline.

"Money moves where?" I asked.

Dad's forensic accountant, Priya Shah, joined by video.

She had spent the night mapping Adrian's companies.

"Vale Meridian has a closing scheduled at nine this morning."

"What closing?"

"A private sale of its most profitable distribution subsidiary."

"To whom?"

"VMC Holdings."

Vanessa again.

Adrian planned to sell the best part of his company to a business connected to his mistress.

For less than half its estimated value.

Then the sale proceeds would be used to pay debts elsewhere in the Vale group.

He would remain publicly wealthy.

But the valuable assets would move beyond the reach of ordinary divorce litigation.

Claire said:

"That's why he needed your signature last night."

The divorce agreement waived any claim I had to transactions executed before filing.

If I signed before the sale, Adrian could argue I knowingly surrendered marital rights.

Vanessa's pregnancy was not only emotional cruelty.

It was leverage.

Shock me.

Humiliate me.

Make me sign.

I looked at Dad.

"Can you stop the sale?"

He answered carefully.

"I can stop my bank from financing it."

"Your bank?"

"One of them."

Priya smiled faintly.

"The buyer's credit line is with North Coast Commercial."

Dad owned twenty-eight percent.

Of course he did.

"But we should not stop it just because we can," Claire said.

I understood.

If Dad used raw power, Adrian would spend years claiming he was the victim of a billionaire vendetta.

We needed law.

Evidence.

Procedure.

Claire filed an emergency marital-asset preservation petition at 7:42.

At 8:31, a judge temporarily blocked the sale.

At 8:52, Adrian called me.

I let it ring.

Again.

Again.

Then a voicemail.

"Mia, call me. Vanessa has been handling things I didn't know about."

I laughed for the first time in twelve hours.

There it was.

The first attempt to move blame.

Then another voicemail.

"I never meant for last night to go that far."

Claire looked up.

"Save that."

A third message came.

"Please. We can fix this."

I stared at the screen.

Three years of marriage reduced to the word fix.

My phone rang again.

This time it was the hospital.

The blood tests they took overnight had found something unexpected.

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A sedative.

I had not taken any medication.