Chapter 1 - The Diamond Ring That Changed Everything"YOU PICKED UP A NINETEEN-THOUSAND-DOLLAR DIAMOND RING WITH MY MONEY, PATRICIA! NOW TELL ME WHO MY HUSBAND BOUGHT IT FOR!"
"Simone, please. You don't understand what you're getting yourself into."
"Then explain it to me before I call my attorney."
My former mother-in-law stood motionless in the marble lobby of my Ottawa condominium, her expensive designer handbag hanging from one trembling arm.
For nine years, Patricia Mercer had treated me like an inconvenience attached to an unlimited bank account.
She had criticized my appearance, mocked my career, and repeatedly reminded me that I would never be good enough for her precious son.
But now, for the first time, she looked genuinely afraid of me.
Not because I had raised my voice.
I hadn't.
Not because I had threatened her.
I hadn't done that either.
She was frightened because I was holding something she couldn't explain away.
A jewelry receipt.
Nineteen thousand eight hundred dollars.
Purchased six weeks before my divorce from Grant Mercer became final.
Collected personally by Patricia Mercer.
And paid for using a supplementary credit card connected to my account.
I lowered the document slightly.
"Who received the ring?"
Patricia glanced toward the security guard standing near the reception desk.
"Can we discuss this somewhere private?"
"That depends. Are you finally going to tell me the truth?"
Her lips tightened.
"You're enjoying this."
"No, Patricia. I enjoyed my tea this morning. I enjoyed waking up in a home where nobody criticized me. I enjoyed discovering that I could make breakfast without wondering whether your son would find something wrong with it."
I took a small breath.
"This isn't enjoyable. This is necessary."
Something shifted in her expression.
For a moment, I thought she might apologize.
Instead, she reached for the receipt.
"Give me that."
I moved it away.
"Answer the question."
Her eyes filled with a combination of fury and desperation.
"Grant told me you knew about Olivia."
The name struck me like a physical blow.
"Olivia?"
Patricia swallowed.
"Olivia Keene."
I searched my memory.
I knew the name.
Three months earlier, Grant had mentioned an Olivia Keene while discussing a potential consulting project in Toronto.
He had described her as a business contact.
A talented property developer with connections to private investors.
At the time, I hadn't thought much about it.
Our marriage was already collapsing, and Grant had begun spending entire weekends away.
He claimed he needed space.
Apparently, that space had a name.
"Olivia Keene," I repeated.
Patricia looked away.
"Your divorce was practically finished. Grant said you both understood that he was moving on."
"And you helped him buy her an engagement ring?"
Patricia said nothing.
The silence answered my question.
I felt something cold settle inside my chest.
The strange thing was that I didn't want to cry.
Eleven months earlier, discovering another woman might have destroyed me.
But I'd spent those eleven months learning how to exist without Grant's approval.
Now, the betrayal felt less like losing a husband and more like discovering another missing piece of a financial investigation.
"How long?" I asked.
Patricia frowned.
"How long what?"
"How long has Grant been seeing her?"
"I don't know."
"Patricia."
"Eight months. Maybe longer."
Eight months.
That meant Grant had been planning a new marriage while I was still fighting to end the old one.
I looked down at the receipt.
The purchase had been made using Patricia's authorized card, but the actual charge had landed on an account funded by my business earnings.
It was a particularly cruel final gift.
I had financed my husband's proposal to another woman.
"Did Olivia know where the money came from?"
Patricia hesitated.
"I don't think so."
"And did Grant tell her we were still married?"
Another hesitation.
Then she whispered:
"He told her you had been separated for years."
I almost laughed.
Of course he had.
Grant had always been talented at rewriting history.
When I worked late, I was neglecting him.
When he spent my money, I was selfish for questioning it.
When Patricia insulted me, I was disrespectful for defending myself.
And apparently, when he found someone new, our nine-year marriage had become an inconvenient detail he could simply erase.
I returned the receipt to my envelope.
"Thank you, Patricia."
She blinked.
"That's it?"
"For now."
I turned toward the elevator.
Behind me, she called out.
"Simone, wait."
I stopped.
Her voice dropped.
"Don't contact Olivia."
I slowly turned around.
"Why?"
"Because Grant has been under tremendous pressure. His business isn't doing well, and Olivia has connections that could help him."
I studied her face.
"What kind of connections?"
"I don't know the details."
"You seem to know quite a few details when they concern jewelry."
Her cheeks reddened.
"That's unnecessary."
"Then stop protecting him."
I walked into the elevator before she could respond.
Upstairs, my condominium felt unusually quiet.
The November rain continued tapping against the windows.
I placed the envelope on my kitchen island and opened my laptop.
My forensic accounting firm had taught me one important lesson.
People could lie.
Numbers rarely did.
And documents often revealed the truth people worked hardest to conceal.
I searched for Olivia Keene.
Within minutes, I found her professional website.
She was thirty-six, according to her public biography, and operated a boutique real estate development consultancy in Toronto.
Her photographs showed a polished, intelligent woman with dark blonde hair and a confident smile.
I couldn't bring myself to hate her.
Not yet.
I didn't even know what she had been told.
Then I found an archived announcement from a private charity event.
Grant stood beside Olivia beneath a glittering chandelier.
His hand rested possessively against her lower back.
On her left hand was a large diamond ring.
The picture had been posted four weeks before our divorce was finalized.
I stared at it for a long time.
Then I enlarged the image.
Behind them stood a familiar man.
Warren Pike.
A financial consultant Grant had once described as an old business acquaintance.
I'd met Warren only twice, and neither encounter had left a pleasant impression.
He was the sort of man who shook hands while studying people's watches.
I remembered him asking unusual questions about my company.
Its annual revenue.
Its ownership structure.
Whether I intended to expand.
Grant had laughed afterward.
"Warren's just curious about successful businesses."
Now I wasn't so sure.
I saved the photograph.
Then I opened the bank statements I'd downloaded the previous evening.
The diamond ring was troubling.
But the deeper I examined the transactions, the more something else bothered me.
A series of payments to a company called Northstar Operations Inc.
The first payment had appeared fourteen months earlier.
The amount was $8,900.
Several similar payments followed.
I didn't recognize the company.
More importantly, I couldn't remember approving those invoices.
I checked the payment descriptions.
Administrative consulting.
Digital compliance.
Business development support.
They sounded legitimate enough.
But every payment had been authorized through an old administrative access arrangement that should have been discontinued.
My stomach tightened.
I reached for my phone.
Before I could call my bank, an email appeared on my screen.
The subject line read:
URGENT: AUTHORIZED SIGNER VERIFICATION REQUIRED.
I opened it.
The message was from my corporate banking relationship manager.
A request had been submitted to add a new authorized signer to my company's operating account.
The requested signer was Grant Mercer.
The submission included a document bearing what appeared to be my signature.
And the request had been filed that morning.
Four days after our divorce.
I stared at the screen.
Grant wasn't merely trying to keep his mother's luxury allowance.
He was still trying to gain control of my money.
Then I noticed the final sentence.
The bank required my immediate confirmation because the requested change was connected to a pending transfer.
Amount: $94,500.
Destination: Northstar Operations Inc.
My phone began ringing.
The caller was Grant.
May you like
And suddenly, I understood that the diamond ring wasn't the end of my investigation.
It was the beginning.
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