Chapter 12 - The Ten-Million-Dollar Question
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The hotel room went completely still.
"A premium payment?" Vivian repeated, her legal mind spinning to catch up. "For insurance?"
"Yes," Jacob said through the phone.
I instantly remembered the secret video Brooke had sent. She asked me why the insurance paperwork needed her Social Security number.
"What kind of policy?" I asked, stepping closer to the phone.
Jacob hesitated. I could hear him shuffling papers. "A life insurance policy, Mrs. Bennett."
A cold draft seemed to sweep through the room, chilling the sweat on my neck.
"On whom?" I whispered.
"On you."
My hand instinctively dropped to my pregnant belly. The baby kicked, a soft reminder of life in a room that had suddenly filled with the shadow of death.
"How much is the payout?" Vivian demanded, her voice razor-sharp.
"Ten million dollars," Jacob answered.
I stared blindly at the city skyline outside the window. Ten million dollars. My life had a price tag, and my husband had paid the premium with my own stolen money.
"Who is the beneficiary?" Hale asked, stepping into the frame of the conversation.
"Originally, it was Ryan Bennett," Jacob explained. "But the beneficiary was quietly amended six weeks ago."
"To whom?" I asked.
"To GRC Holdings. Grant and Ryan's shell company."
I felt my knees buckle. Vivian caught my arm, guiding me into a chair.
"How long has this policy existed?" Hale pressed.
"Just over a year," Jacob said. "The application looks pristine. It has Claire's medical records, her signature, everything. The three-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar premium was to structure the policy so it would pay out immediately, unconditionally, even in the event of an unsolved accident."
An unsolved accident.
I looked at Vivian. Her face was entirely drained of color.
My husband hadn't just married me for my money. He hadn't just drained my accounts and framed me for corporate embezzlement.
He was planning to kill me.
Every sweet moment we had shared over the last three years played in reverse in my mind, warping into something grotesque. The time he insisted on managing my diet during the pregnancy. The times he encouraged me to take sleeping pills when I was stressed at work.
"They were going to cash out," I whispered into the silence of the room. "They drain my accounts, bankrupt my reputation at the company, and then I have a tragic accident."
"And they take the ten million and disappear to Saint Kitts," Hale finished grimly.
May you like
My phone buzzed on the table. A message from Brooke, sent from the police station.
Claire. I need to tell you what they planned for Aspen.
