Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Knew Too Much
I played Ryan's voicemail three times.
Not because I wanted to hear his voice.
Because every time I listened, I hoped I'd misunderstood the threat.
I hadn't.
Noah stood beside the kitchen island while Daniel saved the audio to a secure evidence folder.
"That was explicit," Daniel said.
Noah nodded.
"We need police involved."
"They already have the airport report.
I'll contact the investigating officer."
I stared at them.
"How did Ryan know where I was?"
Noah looked at Daniel.
"Check whether anyone from the airline or our team communicated my passenger information."
Daniel nodded.
"We'll also review the timing of the public sightings."
I looked at Noah.
"Public sightings?"
"Photos of us on the airplane have already appeared online."
He showed me his phone.
A photograph filled the screen.
Me.
Asleep on his shoulder.
Lily curled against my chest.
The headline was cruelly cheerful.
BILLIONAIRE NOAH WHITMAN SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY WOMAN AND BABY.
I felt sick.
"They took that while I was sleeping?"
"Yes."
"My daughter is in that picture."
"I know."
"They didn't ask."
"I know."
I handed the phone back.
"Can you get it taken down?"
"We'll request removal where we can.
But copies may circulate."
I pressed my palms against my eyes.
Ryan would see it.
My former coworkers would see it.
People who knew nothing about my marriage would invent an entire story.
I could already imagine the comments.
She caught herself a billionaire.
That poor husband.
Look how quickly she moved on.
The thought made me want to hide.
But hiding was exactly what Ryan had trained me to do.
By morning, I hadn't slept more than forty minutes.
Sofia Bennett arrived just after eight.
She wore a charcoal suit and carried a battered leather briefcase.
She was older than I'd expected.
Mid-fifties, perhaps.
There was nothing glamorous about her.
I liked that immediately.
"Emily Collins?"
"Yes."
"Sofia Bennett.
I'm general counsel for Whitman Group."
She sat opposite me.
"Before we discuss anything, I want to clarify something.
I represent the company.
I don't represent you."
I appreciated her honesty.
"If your interests ever conflict with ours, you need your own lawyer."
I nodded.
"Understood."
She placed a folder on the table.
"Now.
Tell me everything you remember about that spreadsheet."
For the next hour, I described what I'd seen.
I could remember three company names.
Halden Advisory.
Brookmere Consulting.
Crestline Data Partners.
I remembered that several payments had been divided into amounts just below an internal approval threshold.
And I remembered one other detail.
"The last column had initials."
"What initials?"
"R.C."
Sofia looked at Noah.
His face changed.
"What?" I asked.
Sofia didn't answer immediately.
Then she turned her laptop toward me.
A photograph appeared.
A man with silver hair and a confident smile stood beside Noah at a corporate event.
"Do you recognize him?"
"No."
"This is Richard Calloway.
Whitman Group's chief financial officer."
I stared at the photograph.
"R.C."
"Possibly," Sofia said.
"Initials alone don't establish anything."
Noah stood near the window.
"Calloway authorized the Halden relationship."
Sofia nodded.
"He also supervised the internal review until you removed him from it."
A silence settled over the room.
I looked at Noah.
"You think your CFO is stealing from you?"
"I think someone used our payment systems to move money.
We're still determining who."
I tried to absorb that.
I was a woman who had arrived in Chicago with two suitcases and less than a thousand dollars accessible to me.
Now I was sitting in a billionaire's apartment discussing a potential corporate fraud investigation.
And somehow, my husband was at the center of it.
Sofia closed the laptop.
"Emily, you said your aunt has an old computer?"
"Yes."
"Is it secure?"
"I haven't used it in more than a year."
"Does anyone else know it's there?"
"No."
"Then do not tell Ryan.
And don't try to retrieve it alone."
I swallowed.
"My aunt lives in Milwaukee.
Her name is Diane Parker."
Sofia wrote that down.
"Would you be comfortable contacting her yourself?"
"Yes."
"Good.
Use the new phone."
A few minutes later, Aunt Diane answered.
"Emily?"
I nearly cried at the sound of her voice.
"Hi, Aunt Diane."
"Honey, are you all right?"
"Not exactly."
She became serious.
"What happened?"
I explained only that I needed something from the boxes I'd left with her.
"My old silver laptop.
Do you still have it?"
"Of course.
It's in the back bedroom closet."
"Could you check?"
"Right now?"
"Please."
I heard her moving through the house.
A door creaked.
Something scraped against the floor.
Then she said, "Found it."
My chest loosened.
"Thank God."
"But Emily?"
"Yes?"
"There's something strange."
I sat up.
"What?"
"Someone came asking about your things yesterday."
My heart stopped.
"Who?"
"A man.
Said he was helping Ryan clear out your belongings."
I couldn't breathe.
"What did you tell him?"
"That you were perfectly capable of collecting your own property."
"Did he come inside?"
"Absolutely not."
"Did he give you a name?"
She hesitated.
"He said his name was Curtis."
Noah looked at my face.
He knew immediately.
I whispered, "Aunt Diane, lock your doors."
"Emily, what's going on?"
"Please.
Lock them right now."
In the background, I heard a sound.
A knock.
Three deliberate taps.
Then a man's voice.
"Mrs. Parker?
May you like
It's Curtis Hale.
We need to talk about that computer."
