Chapter 5 - Playing the Fool
At 9:00 a.m., Daniel drove his sports car up the long, winding driveway of the Whitmore Estate in Beverly Hills. The morning sun illuminated the grand marble facade, making the mansion look like a fairy-tale palace. But to Daniel, it now felt like a viper’s nest.
He walked through the front doors, stepping into the grand foyer.
Vanessa was sitting on the plush velvet sofa, wrapped in a silk robe, sipping green tea from a porcelain cup. A team of maid service workers was already busy sweeping up the shattered glass in the east corridor.
When she saw Daniel, she immediately set her cup down, her face twisting into a picture of soft, helpless concern. She rushed over, throwing her arms around his waist.
“Oh, Daniel! Thank goodness you’re back!” she cried softly. “I was so worried! How is poor Maria? The hospital wouldn't give me any information over the phone.”
Daniel felt a violent surge of revulsion, but he forced his muscles to relax. He wrapped his arms around her, patting her back with practiced gentleness.
“She’s stable,” Daniel lied smoothly, looking down into her bright green eyes. “The doctors said she suffered severe head trauma. She’s completely disoriented. She kept rambling about non-existent children and old stories.”
A subtle, nearly imperceptible sigh of relief escaped Vanessa’s lips. Her posture relaxed.
“Oh, that poor woman,” Vanessa sighed, shaking her head sorrowfully. “I told you she was delirious. It’s just so tragic. Should we hire a private nurse for her when she’s released?”
“That won't be necessary,” Daniel replied with a soft smile. “I’ve arranged for her to stay at a private facility until she fully recovers. In the meantime, we have our charity gala to prepare for tomorrow night, don't we?”
Vanessa’s face lit up with absolute delight. “The Whitmore Annual Foundation Gala! Oh, sweetheart, it’s going to be the event of the season! My father has already confirmed that fifty of the top board members and international investors will be attending.”
“Perfect,” Daniel murmured, kissing her forehead while his eyes remained cold as stone. “It will be an unforgettable night.”
Later that evening, while Vanessa was out at a high-end dress fitting, Daniel entered his private home office. He locked the doors and pulled out a small black USB drive that Andrew had handed him at the harbor.
Andrew had spent six years tracking Richard Hart’s offshore accounts. The drive contained thousands of encrypted bank transfers linking Vanessa’s personal account to shell companies in the Cayman Islands—funds stolen directly from Whitmore Holdings.
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Daniel inserted the drive into his computer, uploading the data directly to Detective Sam Carter at the Los Angeles Police Department and federal prosecutors.
The trap was fully baited. All that remained was to spring it.
