My Son Is In A Coma After A Horrific Accident. While He Was Fighting For His Life, I Discovered Where His Wife Really Was. Should I Confront Her Now Or Wait Until I Take Everything?
Embezzlement and Arrival
Tony called at 10:30 a.m.
“Rich, got more for you. Derek Vance is married, two kids in private school. His wife is Katherine Vance. Family money. Sits on three charity boards. She has no idea about Emma.”
“Also, I tracked Emma’s finances. She’s been siphoning money from joint accounts. Small amounts: 500 here, 1,000 there. Over the past year, she’s moved about $47,000 into a separate account under her maiden name.”
“Can you get me proof of that?”
“I can get you bank statements by Monday.”
“Perfect. Keep digging.”
I went back to the hospital at 11 a.m. Marcus was still unconscious, but his vitals were better, stronger. I sat with him for an hour just holding his hand.
“I’ve got you, kid,” I whispered. “I’m not going to let her hurt you anymore.”
Emma arrived at 4:23 p.m. Saturday afternoon. I was in the ICU waiting room when she walked in, pulling a small carry-on suitcase, wearing a sundress and oversized sunglasses. She’d gotten a tan.
“Richard!”
She rushed over, dropped the suitcase, hugged me. She smelled like coconut sunscreen.
“How is he? Can I see him?”
“He’s stable. Still in a coma.”
“Oh thank God.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I was so worried. I couldn’t sleep at all last night.”
Interesting, considering she’d posted a photo of herself with a cocktail at 3:15 a.m.
“Where were you calling from when you said you were at the airport?” I asked.
“West Palm Beach. I told you, work conference.”
“Funny. I called the Breakers. They said you checked out this morning at 11:00.”
Her smile faltered just for a second.
“Yes. The conference ended Friday. I stayed an extra night because I couldn’t get a flight on a Saturday morning from a major Florida airport. Richard, why are you interrogating me? I’m here now. Can I please see my husband?”
I stood up. “Room 412. They’re limiting visitors to 10 minutes per hour.”
Closing the Net
She hurried down the hall. I watched her go. Then I made a call. Jenny answered on the first ring.
“How’d it go with the judge?”
“She signed the emergency order. Your temporary conservator of Marcus’s estate. Effective immediately. Emma can’t access accounts, can’t sell property, can’t make financial decisions. I’m sending you a copy now.”
“Good. What about medical power of attorney?”
“Working on it. Hospital’s legal department is reviewing. They’re concerned about abandonment during emergency.”
I went to the cafeteria, got coffee I didn’t drink. When I came back upstairs 30 minutes later, Emma was in the waiting room on her phone.
“No, I can’t talk about this now,” she was saying, voice low. “I’ll call you tonight. I said I’ll call you.”
She saw me and hung up quickly.
“Just work,” she said. “Pharmaceutical sales never stops.”
She smiled. Too bright. We sat in silence. After 10 minutes she said, “I’m going to get a hotel room nearby. Stay close. Marcus’ house is 20 minutes away.”
“I know, but I want to be closer just in case.”
She left at 6:00 p.m. I waited 30 minutes. Then I followed her. Not to a hotel. She drove to a bar called the Brass Tap in Montgomery, 25 minutes from the hospital.
I parked across the street and watched. At 6:47 p.m., a black Mercedes pulled up. Derek Vance got out. Emma met him in the parking lot.
They stood by his car talking. I couldn’t hear them, but I could see. She was upset, gesturing. He pulled her into a hug. They went inside together.
I took photos: timestamped, location tagged. Then I called Tony.
“I need you to pull Derek Vance’s phone records. I want to know how many times he’s called or texted Emma in the past week.”
“That’s going to take some juice. I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
