Chapter 8 - THE WOMEN BEFORE ME
Gregory had been engaged once before.
His family erased the relationship from biographies, society pages, and company histories. I found it through an old charity-event photograph stored in a newspaper archive.
Her name was Hannah Pierce.
She lived in Vermont and managed a nonprofit equestrian center.
Maren contacted her attorney first.
Hannah agreed to speak only after receiving confirmation that Gregory was under a protective order and that her address would remain confidential.
We met through encrypted video.
She was thirty-six, with dark hair, tired eyes, and the cautious voice of someone who had learned that details could become weapons.
“Did Gregory threaten you?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“With a bat?”
“Not at first.”
Hannah met Gregory when she worked for Hartman’s philanthropic division. He was attentive, generous, and intensely interested in every insecurity she disclosed.
Six months into their engagement, he began testing her.
He canceled transportation to events and criticized her for arriving late. He moved money from a joint wedding account, then accused her of poor tracking. He told friends she drank too much when she objected.
One night, he locked her inside a study and struck the wall beside her with the same aluminum bat.
“He said his father taught him not to hit where a doctor would photograph,” Hannah said.
“Did you report it?”
“I called Marshall.”
“What did he do?”
“He came immediately. He hugged me. He said Gregory was under stress and needed treatment.”
“Did Gregory receive treatment?”
“No.”
“Did you leave?”
“The next morning.”
Marshall’s lawyers presented a nondisclosure agreement and a payment framed as reimbursement for wedding costs. Hannah refused initially.
Then private photographs appeared in an envelope at her workplace.
Gregory had recorded them without her consent.
Hannah signed.
Years later, she learned another woman had dated Gregory briefly after the engagement.
Olivia Grant.
Olivia filed a police report after Gregory damaged her car and threatened her. She withdrew it when Hartman’s company offered her employer a major contract.
Olivia was alive and willing to cooperate after seeing the cruise footage.
A pattern emerged.
Gregory did not become violent without warning.
He concealed warning signs behind wealth, attorneys, professional pressure, and women’s reasonable fear of retaliation.
I had believed my case was unique because the bat appeared on the first night of marriage.
In reality, marriage was merely the point at which Gregory believed concealment was no longer necessary.
Hannah remembered Elaine.
Not directly.
Before Hannah ended the engagement, she received an anonymous email.
DO NOT MARRY HIM ON A BOAT.
No explanation.
The sender used an account later deleted.
When my honeymoon announcement became public, Hannah feared the warning had reached the wrong woman too late.
“Why a boat?” I asked.
“Marshall proposed the same honeymoon for us.”
A cruise departing Florida.
The exact itinerary.
Gregory had told me he chose it because I loved the ocean.
The plan predated me.
Maren obtained the Hartman family travel records through civil discovery requests and government subpoenas where appropriate. Marshall had reserved adjacent suites on similar cruises twice before.
Hannah’s wedding was canceled.
Olivia never reached an engagement.
My marriage provided the first completed opportunity.
The cruise environment offered isolation, confusing jurisdiction, controlled access, and limited immediate contact with outside support.
Yet it also contained security logs, medical staff, cameras, and a captain required to report serious incidents.
The plan depended on compromised personnel.
Derek Mills, the deputy security chief, entered a cooperation agreement with prosecutors. No immunity was guaranteed.
He admitted allowing Julian’s contractor to install the hidden camera and creating the corridor footage gap.
He said the assignment was described as confidential corporate documentation.
“Did you know about the bat?” investigators asked.
“No.”
“Did you know Ashlynn had not consented?”
“I was told she had.”
“Why use a shell payment?”
“Julian said publicity would affect a defense acquisition.”
Mills’s explanation might reduce his moral certainty.
It did not excuse abusing security access.
He identified the person who took his card during the reception.
A woman in a navy evening gown.
Approximately sixty.
Blonde hair.
American accent.
She introduced herself as Elaine Reed.
There was no Elaine Reed on the passenger manifest.
The description resembled Elaine Hartman’s recent photograph.
Ship facial-recognition records were limited by policy and image quality, but a reception photograph captured part of the woman’s profile.
Marshall identified her immediately.
“My wife,” he said during a recorded interview.
“Why would Elaine assist with the camera?” Agent Sloan asked.
“To record Gregory.”
“Did she know about the attack?”
“She has spent fourteen years trying to destroy me. What do you think?”
“Did you place the bat in the suitcase?”
Marshall’s attorney advised him not to answer.
“Did you instruct Gregory to frighten Ashlynn?”
Marshall remained silent.
The photograph proved Elaine was likely aboard.
It did not prove she delivered the weapon.
Passenger movement records showed the woman used a staff corridor toward the adjoining empty suite at 6:31 p.m.
At 6:43, Derek Mills’s card opened our cabin.
The woman exited the corridor three minutes later carrying nothing visible.
She had the opportunity.
That evening, I received a message through Maren’s office.
Elaine wanted to meet.
She proposed a public domestic-violence advocacy center with attorneys and federal agents aware of the location.
She did not ask for secrecy.
Her message contained one condition.
“Do not bring Marshall’s son.”
Gregory was legally barred from approaching me anyway.
The condition was emotional, not practical.
I agreed.
Before the meeting, Hannah sent one final file.
It was an audio recording from the night Gregory threatened her with the bat.
Gregory’s voice said:
“Dad told me the first wife is practice.”
Hannah whispered, “First?”
Gregory laughed.
“The one who stays becomes family.”
May you like
I was not the first woman he had tested.
I was the first who took the weapon away.
