The Price of Hidden Assets and the Truth That Reopened My Divorce
“They claim the Dubai leg was a personal holiday,” Robert said, shaking his head. “It’s a weak defense, and they know it.”
“What about the text message?” I asked.
“The number was a burner phone,” Robert said. “Registered to a shell name. But the location of the tower pinged near your town when it was sent.”
He reached into his drawer and pulled out a fresh document.
“This just came in from the forensic accountant,” he said, sliding it across the desk.
I looked at the header. It was a bank statement from an account in Luxembourg.
“What is this?”
“It’s the account Vanessa was using,” Robert said. “But look at the deposits.”
I scanned the columns of numbers.
The deposits weren’t coming from Mercer Development.
They were coming from a personal account registered to Patricia Mercer.
“Patricia was funding Vanessa?” I asked, looking up.
“Directly,” Robert said. “For the last eight months. Every medical bill, every apartment rental payment, every luxury purchase.”
“Why would Patricia do that?”