Chapter 6: What Paul Found by Morning
Paul called me back at 6:47 a.m.
I hadn't slept.
I'd spent the night at my kitchen table with a notepad, writing down every account, every transfer date, every detail I could pull from our shared banking history.
By 3 a.m.
I had four pages.
"Threshold Capital Group," Paul said, without greeting.
"Registered eighteen months ago in Delaware.
Shell company.
The registered agent is a law firm that handles about two hundred similar entities.
Untraceable on the surface."
"Can you get past the surface?"
"I already did.
It took some time but the beneficial ownership disclosure led to a holding company in Nevada.
And that one" — a pause — "lists a director.
A woman named Claire Morrow."
Claire.
The name Vanessa had found in Myles's email years ago.
"She's not just a name in his inbox," I said.
"No.
She's a co-director on at least three entities connected to Threshold.
She and Myles have been running this together." Paul's voice was careful, measured.
"This isn't a man who made bad financial decisions.
This is a deliberate structure.
Built over years."
I looked at my notepad.
"He's done this before.
There was another woman before me.
Vanessa.
He took money from her the same way."
"Do you have her contact information?"
"Yes."
"I need to speak with her.
And I need Derek — the man who came to your door.
If he has documents from the previous case, that's prior pattern evidence.
That changes everything."
"I'll connect you both today."
"Good." A pause.
"There's something else."
I waited.
"The billboard," Paul said.
"The proposal.
You said he asked you to call him and stay on speaker during the drive."
"Yes."
"That call was recorded.
His end.
I'd want to know what's on that recording — whether he made any representations to you about finances, the future, shared assets.
Anything that could constitute inducement."
"He told me we were going to have a beautiful life together.
That he'd been working hard to make sure we'd be secure."
Paul was quiet for a moment.
"He said he'd been working to make sure you'd be secure."
"Those were his exact words."
"And the next morning, he had already begun transferring your joint savings."
"Yes."
"Okay." His voice had shifted into something I recognized from the few times I'd watched him in a professional setting — focused, unhurried, precise.
"I'm going to refer you to a colleague.
She handles fraud and financial crjme.
She's the best I know.
But I want to be in the room when you meet with her, if that's all right."
"That's more than all right."
"Don't speak to Myles today.
If he contacts you, keep it brief and give him nothing.
Don't mention the account.
Don't mention Vanessa.
Don't mention me."
"He's going to come by.
He'll want to explain."
"Let him talk.
Don't react.
And if he asks about the ring, tell him you took it off because your finger was swollen."
I almost laughed.
It came out wrong.
"Paul," I said.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." A beat.
"Actually — yes.
Thank me for picking up at three in the morning.
Don't thank me for the rest until it's done."
He hung up.
I sat back in my chair.
Through the window, the sky had gone from black to a flat grey.
Somewhere in the building, a door opened and closed.
My phone lit up on the table.
A text from Myles.
*Good morning.
Can we talk today?
I want to explain everything properly.
I love you.*
I read it twice.
May you like
Set the phone face-down.
Then I picked up my notepad and started a fifth page.
