Chapter 7 - The Fake Texts**
The next twenty-four hours brought Daniel’s countermove.
A press release went out from his legal team.
*STATEMENT — Daniel Mercer categorically denies all allegations of financial impropriety. The claims are retaliatory, fabricated, and motivated by jealousy and personal grievance. We have evidence of coercion and emotional manipulation…*
Attached were screenshots.
Text messages. From me to Daniel.
*—If you don’t leave her, I’ll ruin you. I control the money. I can make sure no one ever hires you again.*
*—She means nothing. You’re mine. Do what I say.*
The messages were short, aggressive, controlling.
Completely fabricated.
Eleanor forwarded them to me with one line: Timestamps don’t match. I’m tracing the number now.
I studied the screenshots. The formatting was slightly off. The time zone stamp was wrong. And the dates—days when my phone records showed I was in meetings, my device logged and secured.
"Deepfake texts," I said. "Or a spoofed number."
"Someone with access to messaging software," Eleanor said. "And someone who knows enough about your dynamic to make it sound plausible."
I kept reading. There was one more message.
*—And if you tell anyone about the farm, I’ll make sure you regret it.*
My breath caught.
That line was the tell.
The farm was burned after the gala. I never mentioned it in any threat, any message, any conversation before then. Whoever wrote this included it because they knew—because they were involved.
"Daniel wrote these," I said. "He’s trying to frame me."
"He’s implicating himself," Eleanor said. "Why reference the farm if he didn’t know something about it?"
"Because he thinks I can’t prove it. He thinks if he accuses me first, the truth looks like revenge."
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number again.
*Game over, Claire. Everyone sees who you really are now.*
I didn’t reply. I took a screenshot and sent it to Eleanor.
"Tracing active," she said.
Her phone buzzed seconds later. She read the incoming alert.
"Got it. The number bounced through three relays… but the final destination is a device registered to… Vanessa Cole."
I stared.
"Vanessa?"
"Her personal phone. The messages came from her."
Everything shifted.
Daniel was the face of this. But Vanessa—quiet, efficient, ambitious Vanessa—was the one executing it.
I thought back to the apartment. The payments. The emails.
Vanessa wasn’t just a mistress. She was driving this.
"Pull all of Vanessa’s records," I said. "Phone, email, everything. If she’s the one sending threats, she’s the one leaving a trail."
Eleanor nodded.
"Also—your investigator just called. He found a witness. Someone who was driving past the farm that night. Saw a dark sedan parked near the gate. Got part of the plate."
My heart picked up speed.
"And?"
"Matches a vehicle leased under a corporate account. The same shell company that wiped the footage."
I stood.
"Connect the dots. If they link…"
"They link," Eleanor said. "Daniel’s name is on the lease application."
The pieces were locking into place.
"He burned it," I said quietly. "He destroyed the one thing I loved most to teach me a lesson."
"And now they’re blaming you."
May you like
I smoothed my dress hem. The fabric felt worn now—familiar, steady.
"Let them," I said. "When the witness comes forward, when the forensics confirm the texts are fake… every lie they’ve told collapses at once."
