Chapter 3 - The Paper Trail
By midnight, Lumi was sound asleep in her bedroom upstairs, holding a stuffed rabbit I had brought down from the attic. I sat at the kitchen table beneath the harsh yellow glare of the overhead light, surrounded by documents I had pulled from Maris’s locked filing cabinet in the hallway closet.
I had used a standard butter knife from the drawer to pop the cheap lock—a minor property crime I was more than willing to defend in court if it came to that.
What I found inside went far beyond a custody dispute.
Spread across the table were four distinct bank accounts under names I had never heard: Vanguard Holding LLC, Birch Street Management, and a regional trust registered in the State of Delaware. There were life insurance policies taken out on me three weeks after our courthouse wedding—a $750,000 term policy naming Maris as the sole beneficiary, with an added rider for accidental death or legal incapacity.
My hands shook as I turned the pages.
Maris hadn't married me because she was tired of raising Lumi alone. She had married me because I was an ER nurse with a clean record, a high credit score, a steady state salary, and a substantial life insurance benefit provided by the hospital union.
I pulled out my phone and called Detective Frank Vance—a veteran municipal investigator I knew from the hospital trauma bay. Frank was a rough-around-the-edges homicide cop who had seen every flavor of human cruelty the city had to offer.
He picked up on the fourth ring, his voice gravelly with sleep. "Gideon? What’s wrong? Did something happen at the unit?"
"Frank," I said, keeping my tone perfectly flat to prevent my hands from shaking. "I need you to run a confidential check on a name for me. Off the record, until I come to the precinct tomorrow morning."
"Who?" Frank asked, the sound of a rustling mattress echoing over the line.
"Maris Elizabeth Vance... wait, no, her maiden name was Maris Thorne," I said, reading from a tax document in the drawer. "And check a court evaluator named Dr. Aris Thorne."
There was a long pause on the line. I heard the faint click of a lighter as Frank lit a cigarette.
"Thorne?" Frank asked softly. "Aris Thorne?"
"Yeah. You know him?"
"Gideon," Frank said, his voice instantly dropping all traces of sleepiness. "Aris Thorne isn't a court evaluator. He was stripped of his medical license in Illinois four years ago for falsifying expert testimony in high-conflict divorce cases for money. He runs a private 'consulting' firm now out of Chicago."
The air left my lungs in one long, painful exhale.
"He's her brother, isn't he?" I whispered.
"I don't know their family tree off the top of my head," Frank said grimly. "But Aris Thorne’s firm was investigated two years ago by the state board for helping wealthy spouses construct fake domestic abuse cases to secure sole custody and complete asset liquidations. Where are you right now?"
"I'm at home," I said. "With Lumi. Maris is in Milwaukee until Friday."
"Don't touch anything else in that house," Frank ordered, his tone shifting into full police officer mode. "Don't leave a single search history trace on her computer. Pack a bag for the kid, gather every piece of paper you just opened, and meet me at the precinct at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Do you hear me, Gideon?"
"I hear you," I said.
"And Gideon?" Frank added before hanging up. "If she calls you tonight... act normal. Like you're still the tired stepdad who thinks the kid just doesn't like him."
I ended the call and leaned my forehead against the cool laminate of the table.
The pieces were locking into place with terrifying precision. Maris and her brother were running an organized ring. The target wasn't just custody of Lumi; it was complete destruction. They would use fake psychological assessments, coerced child testimony, and planted evidence to file a civil suit and criminal charges against me, forcing me to settle for everything I owned—or face a life sentence as a monster.
At 1:14 a.m., my phone lit up on the table.
Incoming Call: Maris.
I took two slow, deep breaths, centering myself the way I did before entering a cardiac arrest room. I slid the bar to answer and put the phone to my ear.
"Hey, honey," I said, making my voice sound thick with exhaustion. "Is everything okay in Milwaukee?"
"Everything's fine," Maris’s smooth, melodic voice came through the speaker. "Just checking in. How is Lumi? Did she give you a hard time about the soup?"
I looked toward the staircase leading up to the dark room where Lumi was finally resting in peace.
"She ate a little," I lied smoothly. "Then she went to bed. She's still pretty quiet around me, to be honest."
I heard a faint, satisfied sigh on the other end of the line.
May you like
"I told you, Gideon," Maris said, her tone dripping with fake sympathy. "She just doesn't like you. Don't worry, we'll sort it all out when I get back."
"Yeah," I said, staring at the recorded evidence on the table. "We definitely will."
