Chapter 7 - Unmasking Spencer
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While Matilda rested safely under Henrietta’s watch at the hospital, I met Lincoln at his secure office downtown.
Lincoln had spent the afternoon running background checks on every person associated with Pamela’s past before we married.
“I found your mister Spencer,” Lincoln said, sliding a manila folder across the desk.
I opened it. Staring back at me was a photo of a slick, forty-year-old man with combed-back dark hair and a sharp suit.
“Spencer Vance,” Lincoln explained. “No relation to Henrietta, thankfully. He’s a former family law attorney whose license was suspended two years ago in California for ethical violations involving client trust funds. He’s currently buried under nearly two million dollars in gambling debts and real estate losses.”
“And his connection to Pamela?” I asked.
“They were romantic partners in Los Angeles five years ago,” Lincoln revealed, clicking a mouse to bring up financial records on his monitor. “They stayed in contact. Three months before you met Pamela at that charity gala in Scottsdale, Spencer opened a shell corporation registered in Nevada named 'La Jolla Blue Holdings LLC.'”
The puzzle pieces locked together with horrifying clarity.
“They planned this from the very beginning,” I realized aloud. “Pamela didn't meet me by accident at that charity gala. She targeted me.”
“Exactly,” Lincoln nodded. “The strategy was clear: marry you, establish a role as Matilda’s stepmother, secretly drug the child to create a paper trail of severe psychological illness, and then use Spencer’s legal connections to petition a family court judge to declare Matilda unfit. Once Matilda was institutionalized, Pamela would apply for guardianship over the La Jolla trust assets.”
“And where do the bad videos come in?” I asked.
“Spencer has an associate—a corrupt child psychologist in San Diego,” Lincoln said smoothly. “The videos were going to be used as expert witness evidence to prove to a judge that you were in denial about your daughter's 'severe psychosis.'”
I felt an icy composure settle over me. “They think I’m an oblivious, grieving husband who will swallow whatever story they tell me.”
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“What’s the plan, Gregory?” Lincoln asked.
“We let them think the plan is still working,” I said. “Until I tear their world apart.”
