**PART 2**
## PART 2 — THE SECRET BEHIND HIS EMPIRE
By Monday, Grant had filed for divorce. His proposed settlement denied me support, any interest in our home, and all claims against his business.
His attorney, Richard Sloane, added, “Our client believes this generous offer will help Ms. Bennett avoid unnecessary embarrassment.”
Mara put the document aside. “He thinks you have no leverage.”
“He thinks you have no money,” I said. “Those are different things.”
Before meeting Grant, I’d helped create fraud-detection software and sold my stake.
I invested most proceeds in Alder Point Capital, a private firm entirely mine but managed by professionals.
When Bennett Freight faced a cash shortage, Alder Point rescued it financially in exchange for sixty-four percent of its voting shares. Grant dealt with its representatives without investigating their owner.
Although my firm held the controlling stake, I had never tried to direct Grant’s career or dictate how he ran the business.
The arrangement included independent directors and strict oversight measures intended to protect the investment.
But the newest audit results indicated that someone had begun treating corporate accounts as an unlimited source of personal money.
They found fake carriers, duplicated invoices, and federal loan applications containing falsified revenues.
Funds traveled through two Nevada businesses connected to Vanessa, across state borders and through federally insured banks.
My compliance director had already reported those findings to federal investigators.
By then, agents had been pursuing their own inquiry for several weeks, using lawful procedures to obtain the records they needed.
I turned over every relevant document in my possession, careful not to bring the ongoing investigation into the divorce dispute or interfere with their work.
Grant meanwhile grew bolder.
He texted bedroom photographs, planned an engagement party with Vanessa before our divorce, and left a voice message:
“You’ll leave court poorer than you walked in, sweetheart. Maybe I’ll buy you lunch afterward.”
The financial damage was substantial, but it was not what devastated me most.
Grant spoke about our seven years together as though they were nothing more than an extended act of charity, something for which I should have been grateful.
Mara requested temporary disclosure of the missing savings.
We provided statements, transfer evidence, and his messages. Grant swore the money went toward “ordinary household expenses.”
His lawyer then challenged me to prove my personal investments, apparently certain they were fabricated.
“File the certified ownership records,” I told Mara.
She watched me. “That will put Alder Point in open court.”
“I know.”
Two days later, auditors discovered a seven-figure wire approved using Grant’s executive credentials.
Its recipient listed Vanessa’s brother as director.
One message from Vanessa said, “Move it before the investors notice.”
Mara looked afraid for the first time.
“Claire, this isn’t just a divorce.”
“No,” I said, studying the authorization signature. “It never was.”
On hearing day, I wore Mother’s simple navy jacket. Grant laughed when he spotted it.
“Still dressing for job interviews?”
I passed without replying.
