Chapter 7: Gordon
Rebecca forwarded the threat to Marcus Webb within the hour.
Marcus was not what I expected.
He was quiet, precise, and spoke in short sentences that left no room for misunderstanding.
He had spent eleven years as a federal financial crimes investigator before moving to private practice.
Rebecca had described him as someone who enjoyed finding things that other people believed were hidden.
He called me the morning after the threat arrived.
"The message came from a prepaid number," he said.
"Untraceable on its own.
But the phrasing — *you have no idea who you're dealing with* — that's not Daniel's style based on what I've read of his communications."
"Gordon," I said.
"That's my read too.
Gordon Pryce has more exposure here than Daniel does.
The holding company structure, if it's being used the way the screenshots suggest, crosses into wire fraud territory.
He has a great deal more to lose."
"Can you prove it?"
"I'm working on it.
I need one thing from you." A pause.
"The document you signed two years ago.
The one Daniel told you was a rebalancing authorization.
Do you have a copy?"
I thought back.
The conference room.
The papers.
"I don't think I kept a copy."
"Gordon's firm will have one.
I'm going to subpoena his records.
But if you have any emails from around that time — anything Daniel sent you about the meeting, anything from Gordon's firm — that would help establish the timeline."
"I'll look."
I spent that afternoon going through two years of archived email on my laptop.
Natalie sat beside me, saying nothing, occasionally refilling my coffee.
I found it forty minutes in.
An email from Daniel.
Subject line: *Portfolio review — Thursday 2pm — Gordon Pryce Associates.*
The body of the email said: *Gordon's going to walk us through some rebalancing options.
Should be straightforward.
Just need your signature on a couple of authorization forms.*
I forwarded it to Marcus without reading it again.
He called back within twenty minutes.
"That's exactly what I needed.
The date matches the holding company formation documents.
He set up the company the same week." A pause that felt deliberate.
"Rachel, I want you to be prepared for something.
When we move on Gordon, Daniel is going to be named in the same filing.
This becomes a matter of public record."
"I understand."
"His employer will likely be notified.
His professional reputation—"
"Marcus." I stopped him.
"He spent eighteen months building a plan to leave me with nothing.
I'm not going to protect his reputation."
"Good," Marcus said simply.
"I'll be in touch."
Three days passed.
On the fourth day, Daniel called Rebecca directly.
She told me about it that evening.
"He wants to negotiate," she said.
"He's offering to return the two-forty voluntarily in exchange for you dropping the fraud referral."
"No."
"I told him you'd say that.
He then said he had information that would be damaging to you personally.
He didn't specify what."
I thought about that.
"He's bluffing," I said.
"There's nothing."
"I believe you.
But I want you to think carefully.
Is there anything — anything at all — from the last ten years that he could use to make this harder for you?"
I thought about ten years.
About every argument, every mistake, every moment of weakness.
"No," I said.
"There isn't."
"Then we hold."
"We hold."
The next morning, I went back to work for the first time since leaving the house.
I was a senior editor at a medical publishing firm in downtown Boston.
My colleagues knew something had happened.
Nobody asked directly.
My assistant, a young woman named Priya, put a coffee on my desk without being asked and closed my office door behind her.
I sat down and opened my email.
At the top of my inbox was a message from an address I didn't recognize.
The subject line was three words.
*He told me.*
I opened it.
*Rachel — my name is Diane Pryce.
Gordon is my husband.
I think we need to talk.
I've found things.
I don't know what to do with them.
Please call me.*
A phone number.
I read the email twice.
Then I picked up my desk phone and dialed Marcus Webb.
"Gordon's wife just contacted me," I said.
A beat of silence.
"Don't call her back yet," Marcus said.
"Not until I tell you it's safe."
"Why?"
"Because if Gordon finds out she reached out to you before we've secured the records, he'll destroy everything." His voice was very steady.
"Give me forty-eight hours."
I looked at the email on my screen.
*I've found things.
May you like
I don't know what to do with them.*
Forty-eight hours felt like a very long time.
