My Daughter Is In A Coma After Her Husband Cut Her Brake Lines For A $10m Payout. He Didn’t Know She Was Pregnant With His Child. I Am A Billionaire With A Very Particular Set Of Skills. How Should I Execute My Revenge?

A Web of Betrayal

I sat down heavily in my chair. My daughter was fighting for her life, and her husband was celebrating his engagement to another woman. An engagement that happened while Rebecca was still legally his wife.

“There’s more,” Vincent continued. “I’ve been looking into Derek’s finances. Something doesn’t add up. The investment firm you helped him start, Mercer Capital Partners? It’s been hemorrhaging money for the past 18 months. But Derek’s personal accounts show deposits totaling over $4 million during that same period. He’s been embezzling. That’s what it looks like.”

“And there’s a life insurance policy on Rebecca. $10 million. Derek took it out three years ago. He’s the sole beneficiary.”,

The darkness in my chest spread until it consumed everything. I looked at my daughter lying broken in that hospital bed. And I understood this wasn’t an accident.

Derek Mercer had tried to kill my daughter.

“Vincent, I want everything. Every transaction, every email, every text message. I want to know every person he’s met with, every place he’s been, every lie he’s told. I want to know what he eats for breakfast and what time he goes to sleep. I want his entire life laid bare.”

“Consider it done.”

“And Vincent… don’t let him know we’re watching. Not yet.”

I hung up and looked at my daughter. Her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of the ventilator. Somewhere out there, the man who had done this to her was drinking champagne and planning his new life. He had no idea what was coming.

Building the Case

Over the next 72 hours, while I kept vigil at Rebecca’s bedside, Vincent and his team built a case against Derek Mercer that would have made any prosecutor weep with joy. The embezzlement was worse than we initially thought.

Derek had been siphoning money from Mercer Capital Partners for three years, not 18 months. The total amount was just over $7 million, systematically transferred to offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands and Switzerland. But the money wasn’t the worst of it.

Vincent found emails, hundreds of them, between Derek and Vanessa dating back four years. They had been planning this for a long time. The marriage to Rebecca, the investment firm I had funded, the slow draining of assets. It was all a long con, and my daughter was the mark.

And then there was the accident. The police had ruled it an accident. Rebecca’s car had gone off a notoriously dangerous stretch of Mulholland Drive at high speed. No other vehicles involved. No witnesses. Open and shut.

But Vincent’s forensic expert found something the police had missed. The brake lines on Rebecca’s car had been cut. Not completely severed; that would have been too obvious. Just weakened enough that after sustained use, they would fail.

Rebecca had dinner with Derek that night at a restaurant in the Hollywood Hills, a restaurant with a parking lot where her car sat unattended for two hours. And Derek had excused himself twice during dinner to take business calls. The pieces fit together like a puzzle designed by the devil himself.,

Rebecca Wakes Up

On the fourth day, Rebecca woke up. I was holding her hand when her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she looked confused, lost. Then she saw me, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Daddy?”

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.”

“Where’s Derek? Is Derek okay?”

My heart broke for her. Even now, after everything, her first thought was of him.

“Rebecca, do you remember what happened?”

She closed her eyes, trying to recall.

“I was driving home from dinner. The brakes… The brakes weren’t working. I tried to stop, but…”

She started crying harder.

“Where’s Derek? Daddy, we had dinner together. He said he had a late meeting, but he should be here. Why isn’t he here?”

I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not like this.

“He’s been delayed, sweetheart. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She squeezed my hand weakly.

“I need to tell you something, Daddy. I’ve been wanting to tell you for weeks, but I wanted to wait until it was safe.”

She placed her other hand on her stomach.

“I’m pregnant, Daddy. 12 weeks. Derek doesn’t know yet. I was going to tell him that night, but he was so distracted.”

And then she broke down completely. I held my daughter while she cried. And inside me, something fundamental shifted.

Derek hadn’t just tried to kill my daughter. He had tried to kill my grandchild, my unborn grandchild. There would be no mercy.