Chapter 2 - The Last Thing Sofia Asked Me
Nobody wanted to tell Vanessa by text.
My mother insisted.
“She should hear her daughter is dead from a person.”
“Then she needs to answer a person.”
“Emma.”
“I’ve called her sixty-eight times.”
Mom looked exhausted.
“Try again.”
I did.
Voicemail.
I called Daniel.
Voicemail.
Something cold settled in my stomach.
Why were they both unreachable?
I opened our shared cloud account from the hospital waiting room.
Daniel and I used it for travel receipts, insurance documents, photographs, and bookings.
At first, I wasn’t looking for evidence.
I was looking for an emergency contact.
Maybe Daniel had booked a work trip.
Maybe I could find his hotel.
Instead, I found a folder marked:
Anniversary Options
My heart stopped.
Daniel and I had been planning a trip for our fifteenth anniversary.
St. Lucia.
We postponed it after Sofia’s cardiologist warned Vanessa that another procedure might be necessary this summer.
I had told Daniel, “I want to stay close in case she needs me.”
He had kissed my forehead.
“Of course.”
Inside the folder was a hotel confirmation.
I opened it.
Oceanfront Suite. Six Nights. Two Adults.
Arrival date:
Three days earlier.
I frowned.
Then I saw the guest names.
Daniel Mercer.
And beneath his:
Vanessa Cole.
For several seconds, the words made no sense.
Then they made perfect sense.
Too perfect.
I checked the payment.
Our joint credit card.
I searched older transactions.
Restaurant reservation.
Airport transfer.
Spa package.
Private snorkeling excursion.
Two guests.
I felt physically sick.
My mother noticed.
“What is it?”
I turned the phone facedown.
“Nothing.”
“Emma.”
“Not tonight.”
She stared at me.
“Is it Vanessa?”
“Mom.”
“What did you find?”
I stood.
“My niece just died. I am not going to turn this room into a courtroom.”
“Then tell me enough to know whether I should be worried.”
I looked at her.
“You should be worried.”
Her face changed.
“About Vanessa?”
“And Daniel.”
Silence.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Mom, please.”
She lowered herself into the chair.
“Oh, God.”
I started copying everything.
Not because I was calm.
Because this was what I did for a living.
Fifteen years as a forensic accountant taught me something useful:
People lie emotionally.
Numbers lie only when someone manipulates them.
And manipulators always leave something behind.
I downloaded the hotel invoice.
Credit-card records.
Airline confirmations.
Cloud backups.
A deleted screenshot of Vanessa standing on a balcony in a swimsuit.
Daniel’s reflection was visible in the sliding glass door.
Timestamp: yesterday.
While Sofia was alive.
My mother watched me.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are they having an affair?”
“I don’t know how else you explain one hotel suite.”
Mom whispered, “Sofia was calling for her.”
I looked at her sharply.
“Yes.”
“And Vanessa was…”
“Don’t say it.”
I couldn’t hear the words yet.
By morning, the family knew Sofia was gone.
Vanessa did not respond until 9:14 a.m.
A text.
Not a phone call.
Just got access to another phone. What happened?
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
Why is everyone calling me???
My hand shook.
I typed:
Call me.
She didn’t.
At 9:21:
Can’t. Bad connection. Tell me what happened.
I replied:
Sofia died last night.
The typing indicator appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Then:
WHAT?
Two minutes later, Daniel called me.
I answered.
“Emma.”
His voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
“Where are you?”
“What happened to Sofia?”
“Where are you?”
“Emma, Vanessa just told me—”
“Where are you?”
Silence.
Then he said, “Miami.”
I almost laughed.
“Try again.”
“What?”
“Daniel, I’m only giving you one opportunity. Where are you?”
“We had a business—”
“St. Lucia.”
Silence.
I continued.
“Jade Mountain resort. Oceanfront suite. Six nights.”
“Emma—”
“Do not insult me.”
“It isn’t what you think.”
“That sentence should be illegal.”
“Vanessa was having a difficult time.”
“Her daughter was dying.”
“We didn’t know.”
“One hundred twenty-seven calls.”
“Our phones were stolen.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“It happened at the beach.”
“So the thieves returned your phones long enough for your accounts to show activity?”
He said nothing.
I opened another document.
“And they apparently used your card for dinner at 8:13 last night.”
“Emma.”
“While I was sitting beside Sofia.”
“Stop.”
“No.”
“You’re upset.”
I stared through the hospital window.
“Daniel, I watched an eight-year-old girl die while you were sleeping with her mother on an island using money from our marriage.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know enough.”
He breathed heavily.
“We’ll talk when I get home.”
“You’re coming to the funeral.”
“Of course.”
“With Vanessa?”
Another silence.
I almost smiled.
Because he still didn’t understand.
The affair was devastating.
But evidence made me focused.
“You should both come,” I said.
“Emma…”
“Come home.”
Then I ended the call.
My mother looked at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving them enough rope.”
May you like
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m done protecting everyone.”
