The Investigator
That night, I called Marcus Doyle, a private investigator I’d saved for emergencies.
“This is about my daughter,” I said. “I need to know everything about her husband and his family—the business, the money… everything.”
A week later, he handed me a thick file. Reed Global Imports, I read. On paper, it looked successful. In reality? Two million dollars owed to suppliers, mortgages doubled, foreclosure looming.
“The house in the hills? Heavily mortgaged too. Maybe six months from eviction.”
I stared at the numbers.
“Your daughter,” Marcus continued, “has been transferring money from her personal account into the company. Keeping them afloat.”
My stomach turned.
“And Nathan?” I asked.
“He’s aware. He’s authorized on all accounts. And… he’s been seeing another woman, Lauren Price, for years. Apartment, restaurants… the works.”
I didn’t cry. I didn’t speak. I made a choice.
“How much do they owe in total?”
Marcus told me.
“I want to buy their debt,” I said. “All of it—the house, the company, everything.”
“Mrs. Harper, you risk everything you’ve built.”
“I’ve already risked what matters most,” I said. “I left my daughter in their hands.”
