Chapter 8: The Report
1263 Words
James POV
I stare at the photographs attached to the back of the file—bank statements, text transcripts, and hotel receipts.
Elena walks to the edge of my desk, tapping a page with her pen.
“The timeline matches perfectly, James," Elena says, her voice quiet in the dark office. "A few days ago, neighbors reported a massive screaming match at their house. Isla Vance packed a single bag, took her husband's car, and moved straight into the home of a fellow schoolteacher, Ruby Nakamura. She hasn't been back since."
I look down at the financial pages, my eyes tracking the heavy lines of debt. "She left with nothing but a single bag," I say, the realization hitting me all at once. "And I sat right here in an expensive suit, treating her like a criminal trying to scam me. I was completely wrong about her, Elena."
"You were a jerk, James," Elena says bluntly. "You treated her like she was running a scam."
"She didn't flinch," I say. "She just told the truth."
I pick up my desk phone and dial my lead investigator, Reyes who answers on the second ring.
"Tell me something, Reyes," I say, my voice sounding flat in the silent office. "Is there anything—anything at all—that suggests she knew about my identity before the DNA screen?"
There is a long pause on the line, the sound of papers shuffling near his microphone.
"No, sir," Reyes says. "We've gone through her emails, her text messages, and her bank records twice. She didn't know the sample wasn't from her husband. She didn't know who James Moretti was until Dr. Hart called her with the review results. If she is playing us, she is the best actress I've ever seen, and I've been doing this for years."
"That's not an answer, Reyes."
"It is the only one I have, James," Reyes replies firmly. "The woman is completely clean."
I hand the phone back to Elena, who cuts the line. I look back down at the folder, the white pages glowing under the lamp.
"She didn't set a trap for me," I told Elena. "She was just trying to survive the monster she married."
"So, what do we do now?" Elena asks. "Do you want to settle?"
"No," I say, opening my laptop. "We help her fight. I need you to go down to New Jersey. Open a discreet file on Isla Vance. Do a full protection assessment on her and the house where she is staying."
Elena stares at me, her brow furrowing. "You want me to watch a schoolteacher in New Jersey? It isn't even midnight, James."
"I want you to protect her," I say. "Her husband is broke, desperate, and I am going to hit him with criminal fraud charges the second the sun comes up."
"James." Elena steps closer to the desk. "You've read one report and now you're deploying real resources on a woman you accused of running a con on you two days ago."
"The report changed the facts," I told her.
"The facts didn't change who you are," she says, picking up her coat. "But I will get the security team in place tonight. Try to get some sleep."
She leaves, and the heavy doors click shut.
*******
My phone lights up on the nightstand, buzzing loud against the wood at five in the morning. I grab it and see Ashford's name on the screen.
I press the green button and put it to my ear. "Tell me you have the documents ready."
"I do, James," Ashford says over the speaker. "We are drafting the formal legal complaints against Dylan Winters right now. We have him for forgery and fraudulent medical consent, using the files Isla gave you."
"Good," I say. "What about the fertility clinic?"
"Our medical law team is handling that," Ashford explains. "We are demanding a full accounting of how your privately stored sample under legal alias protections ended up flagged for anonymous donation. Someone at Harmony Fertility Center is going to lose their license for this."
"Make sure they do," I say. "And Ashford? File a formal notice to Dylan's business partners too. Flag the active fraud litigation."
"Is that necessary, James?" Ashford asks. "That will completely destroy his real estate business."
"Men like Dylan Winters only understand consequences when they arrive publicly and all at once," I reply flatly. "Dismantle him."
"I will handle it immediately," Ashford says.
"Make sure you do," I say, staring out the window at the dark city skyline. "Right now, I have no choice but to protect Isla Vance. She is holding my entire future in her hands. She just wouldn't understand how critical all of this is to me."
"I understand, sir," Ashford says. "I will call you when he is served."
I hung up the phone.
By ten in the morning, the sun is high and bright outside the glass walls. I am still sitting at my desk, staring at the screen, when Malcolm walks in without knocking. He drops right into the leather chair across from me and looks down at my desk, then up at my face.
"You didn't sleep," he says.
"I don't sleep," I reply.
"You did not sleep," Malcolm says, leaning forward. He reaches across the desk, grabs the file, and flips through the pages. His eyes go wide. "Christ. The husband took all her money and forged her name to hide his own infertility. That is not a man. That is a liability with a haircut."
"I already filed the complaints against him," I say.
"Good," Malcolm says, tossing the folder down. He leans to the side, looking at the computer monitor angled on my desk. "But look at you. Her picture is open on your screen, your coffee is ice-cold, and you look like you have been sitting here since dawn. What is really bothering you, James?"
I rub the back of my neck and turn to face him. "I think about her face from yesterday. “She told me her name is Vance, and that she is getting a divorce. She said it like it tore her apart, Malcolm."
"And let me guess," Malcolm says dryly. "You said something terrible."
"I made a cold joke about trouble in paradise," I say, the guilt sharp in my chest. "I acted like a man with absolutely no capacity for basic decency."
"Well, you are usually a jerk to anyone who gets in your way," Malcolm says, standing up and heading for the door. "But you had Reyes running her finances at midnight and Elena on the phone for a security detail by seven-thirty. That is not due diligence pacing, James. That is something else."
"It is a legal matter," I insist, my voice tight. "There is a child involved."
"Sure," Malcolm says, reaching for the door handle.
"Malcolm, stop," I snapped, glaring at him. "You know that child right now is my only hope for the future. So stop acting like you don't know."
Malcolm pauses, his hand on the knob. He turns around, his smirk fading into a serious look.
"I know about your accident, James," Malcolm says quietly. "But keep telling yourself this is entirely about the kid. Maybe you will actually believe your own lies one day."
He leaves before I can answer. My phone buzzes on the mahogany wood. A text from Ashford flashes across the screen: Winters has been served. He's already calling his lawyer. This is going to move fast.
I type back one word: Good.
- Writer
