Chapter 4 - The Paper Trail of Blood
The fallout from Tristan’s arrest hit like a tidal wave. While I spent the next week recovering under 24-hour police protection, Detective Vance and a young, sharp-witted legal advocate named Logan Vance (no relation to the detective, but a fierce victim rights attorney hired by Dr. Mensah’s hospital network) began digging into Tristan’s life.
What they found turned my blood colder than the freezer frame of my memories.
"He didn't just want you dead for convenience, Reese," Logan explained, spreading a stack of financial documents across my tray table in the hospital room. "Tristan was living a double life."
As it turned out, Tristan had amassed over $1.5 million in illegal day-trading debts and covert offshore gambling accounts. But even worse was the insurance policy. Three months before I "scraped" my heel, Tristan had quietly taken out an umbrella life insurance policy on me—worth $4 million—with a double-indemnity clause for death caused by rare infectious diseases.
"He targeted you because of your background," Logan said softly. "You’re an independent graphic designer working from home. You don't have an office full of coworkers checking in on you daily. He knew he could isolate you for a week without anyone raising an alarm."
"There’s more," Detective Vance added, sitting heavily in the armchair beside my bed. "We pulled the cold cases from his previous residential addresses. Eight years ago, before you met him, Tristan was engaged to a woman named Clara Vance in Seattle. She died suddenly of what medical examiners at the time declared a 'rapid-onset streptococcal toxic shock syndrome' following a minor knee scrape."
I covered my mouth, a gasp escaping my throat. "Oh my God... Clara."
"He collected a $1 million payout on her death," Vance said grimly. "It was his starter capital. He got away with it once, so he thought he was an untouchable genius. He used the exact same playbook on you."
The sheer arrogance of his sociopathy made me tremble, but beneath the fear, a fierce, burning flame of rage began to ignite within me. I was no longer the weak, feverish woman trapped in that dark bedroom, whimpering for help while he worked on his dual monitors.
"He thinks he’s smarter than everyone else," I said, my voice steadying. "He thinks his money and his corporate lawyers can bury this."
"His firm, Apex Global, has already assigned their top defense team to him," Logan warned. "They’re trying to suppress the lab evidence, claiming the tissue samples were contaminated in the ER. They’re filing for a high bail hearing tomorrow."
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I looked down at my bandaged ankle, then up at Logan and Detective Vance.
"Then let him get bail," I said, my eyes narrowing with lethal resolve. "Because if he’s out, he’ll try to finish what he started. And this time, I’m going to make sure we catch him on camera."
