“Thomas is getting old and his heart attack made him much more sentimental than he used to be in his younger days,” he claimed. “The old man thinks I am the son he never had, so he will sign whatever I put in front of him without asking questions,” he added. Something deep inside of me changed in that moment and the sadness was replaced by a cold and hard anger.
My father was not just an old man who had lost his edge. He was a man who had built a massive construction empire from nothing but a single truck and a strong work ethic. He had survived treacherous business partners and the devastating loss of my mother, yet Mark believed he could simply use him as a bank.
Even worse than the financial theft was the fact that he believed he could use my own heart as a weapon against my father. I did not hang up the phone because I wanted to hear every single detail of their treachery. I kept listening with a heart that had turned into stone while they discussed bank accounts and legal documents.
Mark mentioned a signature that he needed from me on Monday morning at a law office in the Uptown district. He told Lydia that he would convince me to sign by saying it was for family reasons. He never intended to explain that my signature would grant him temporary control over the trust fund my mother had left for me.
When the call finally ended, the silence in my kitchen felt like a heavy weight that was trying to crush me. I slowly bent down to pick up the fallen can from the floor and I saw my distorted reflection in the polished metal. Then I picked up the phone again and dialed the one person who had always protected me.
My father answered the call in his usual calm and steady voice that always made me feel safe. “What happened, honey, is everything alright at home?” he asked. I took a deep and shaky breath before I forced the words out of my mouth.
“Dad, I need you to help me ruin Mark’s life,” I said with a voice that was surprisingly firm. There was a long silence on the other end of the line as my father processed my request. “Send me everything you have and do not say a single word to him yet,” he finally replied.
That night, Mark arrived home with a bouquet of flowers and kissed me on the forehead as if he were the perfect husband. I stood there and accepted his touch even though it made my skin crawl with disgust. I already knew that what was coming for him was irreversible and that his world was about to end.
The worst part was that I had not even heard the most disgusting part of his plan yet. I could not believe the level of cruelty that was about to be revealed as I began my own investigation.
PART 2
Mark walked into the house that night carrying a large bouquet of yellow tulips, which he knew were my favorites. He wore a smile that was so incredibly fake it made me want to scream, but I kept my face perfectly still. “I am so sorry that I am late tonight, but I have been completely swamped with work at the office,” he said.
I watched him from the dining room table where I had already set out a bowl of warm noodle soup. I had prepared his favorite meal because that is what I always did when he claimed to be stressed. I hated myself in that moment for still knowing every little detail of his preferences.
“Is everything going well with my father and the new investment?” I asked while I feigned a sense of calm. Mark sat down across from me and picked up his spoon to begin eating. “Yes, Thomas is very excited about the project and it is going to be a great opportunity for everyone involved,” he lied.
While he was eating his soup, my cell phone began to vibrate in my lap where he could not see it. It was a message from my father that I read with a sense of grim determination. “Send me the documents he asked you to sign immediately,” the first message read.
“I have already spoken with Robert, our primary lawyer, and we are preparing a strategy,” my father wrote in the second text. “Do not sign a single piece of paper that Mark gives you this weekend,” he warned. “This is much more than just a simple case of infidelity,” the final message stated.
I felt a strange and biting coldness wash over my back as I realized the depth of the situation. Later that night, after Mark had fallen into a deep sleep, I crept into his home office and opened his laptop. He was so arrogant that he had never bothered to change his security settings and used his fingerprint for everything.
I carefully took his hand while he was snoring and pressed his finger against the keyboard sensor to unlock the screen. What I found within his private files left me completely breathless and shaking with rage. There were emails from supposed investors that did not actually exist and messages where he referred to my father as the old man.
I found folders with titles like “Clean Exit” and “Temporary Control” that detailed exactly how he would drain our accounts. There was even a draft for a divorce petition that claimed I suffered from emotional instability. He wanted to use my grief over my mother’s death to prove that I was unfit to manage my own inheritance.
However, that was not even the most heartbreaking thing I discovered during my late night search. I found a hidden folder containing digital copies of medical receipts and appointments. There were prenatal consultations at an expensive private hospital and images of ultrasounds showing a growing child.
Everything had been paid for using a business credit card that was linked to my father’s secondary company accounts. Mark was not just deceiving me and planning to leave me for my best friend. He was actively using my family’s hard earned money to fund the lifestyle and medical care of his mistress.
I had to lock myself in the guest bathroom so that I could vomit without waking him up. At dawn the next morning, my father called and asked me to meet him at his private office in the city. He did not hug me immediately when I walked through the door because he was a man who struggled with showing emotion.
But when he saw my swollen eyes and my pale face, he dropped his pen and held me like he did when I was a child. “Please forgive me, Audrey,” he murmured into my hair as I began to sob. “Why are you asking for forgiveness when you did nothing wrong?” I asked through my tears.
