Chapter 9 - The Woman They Tried to Frame
I sat through the next meeting feeling as though I were watching someone dismantle my life with a calculator.
Sofia showed me a series of documents.
Bank records.
Company registration forms.
Payment instructions.
An account application bearing my name.
At first, I didn't understand what I was seeing.
Then I noticed the signature.
Emily Collins.
It looked almost like mine.
Almost.
The first letter was too narrow.
The final stroke curved in a way I never wrote.
"That's not my signature."
Grace nodded.
"We'll arrange an appropriate examination.
But the surrounding records matter too."
I looked at the account opening date.
It was four months after Lily's birth.
I remembered that month.
I barely slept.
Lily had reflux.
My mother was receiving treatment.
Ryan had insisted I was too overwhelmed to manage household finances.
I looked at another page.
An authorization.
A copy of my driver's license.
An old utility bill.
Documents Ryan had easy access to.
"Oh, God."
Sofia watched me.
"Emily?"
"He didn't just control the money."
I looked up.
"He used my identity."
Grace turned to the next page.
"We're investigating whether accounts were opened without your authorization."
My hands trembled.
"How much money moved through them?"
Sofia answered.
"Several million dollars appear in the records currently available.
We don't yet know which entries reflect actual transfers and which were fabricated."
I stared at her.
"And if Ryan says I did it?"
"That's why we preserve evidence and establish the truth."
I laughed bitterly.
"Ryan has been practicing his lies for years."
Noah stood by the conference room door.
He hadn't spoken much.
But when I looked at him, I saw anger in his face.
Not directed at me.
Directed at what had been done.
I appreciated that more than I could explain.
The board meeting took place the following afternoon.
I wasn't invited.
I spent the hours with Lily and Rosa, trying not to check my phone every thirty seconds.
At two, Sofia texted Grace.
At three, Daniel took a call.
At four, I heard Noah's name on a financial news broadcast.
WHITMAN GROUP FACES LEADERSHIP CRISIS.
The reporter spoke confidently about internal disputes and possible executive misconduct.
I turned the television off.
By five, I couldn't stand the apartment anymore.
I put Lily in her stroller and walked in the building's enclosed indoor garden with Rosa nearby.
There were small trees, stone benches, and a fountain.
Lily loved the sound of running water.
She reached toward it and squealed.
I smiled despite everything.
Then my phone rang.
Grace.
I answered immediately.
"What's happened?"
"The hearing in Texas has been scheduled."
My stomach tightened.
"When?"
"Next week."
I closed my eyes.
"Okay."
"We'll prepare you."
"Did Ryan submit anything new?"
Grace hesitated.
"Yes."
"What?"
"A purported psychiatric evaluation."
I froze.
"What evaluation?"
"He claims you sought treatment for a condition affecting your judgment."
My heart hammered.
"I never had a psychiatric evaluation."
"I know.
The document raises serious authenticity concerns."
I remembered an appointment Ryan had arranged after Lily was born.
He'd told me it was a routine wellness consultation.
A physician had asked whether I was sleeping.
Whether I was anxious.
Whether I felt supported.
I'd told the truth.
I was exhausted.
I was scared.
I felt alone.
Ryan had sat beside me the entire time.
Afterward, he'd told me the doctor agreed I was unstable.
Now I wondered whether he'd been building a paper trail.
"Grace."
"I'm here."
"He's going to say I'm an unfit mother."
"He's already implying it."
I looked down at Lily.
She was laughing at a leaf floating in the fountain.
My throat closed.
"I can't lose her."
Grace's voice remained steady.
"We're going to answer his allegations with records, witnesses, and the actual timeline.
You will not have to face this without counsel."
That evening, Noah returned after dark.
I heard the elevator open.
Then his footsteps.
I stood in the living room.
He walked in, loosened his tie, and looked at me.
I could tell immediately.
"The vote?"
He nodded.
"What happened?"
"I survived."
My breath escaped.
"But only by one vote."
I stepped closer.
"One?"
"Yes."
"Can Calloway try again?"
"He can.
But the outside investigation is expanding."
Noah looked exhausted.
I wanted to hug him.
I wanted to tell him he'd done enough.
Instead, I asked, "Did he mention me?"
Noah hesitated.
"Emily."
"Please tell me."
"He showed the board an account opening document with your name on it."
My stomach dropped.
"He knows."
"Yes."
"Then Ryan knows."
"Probably."
I looked at him.
"What did you say?"
"I said the documents were disputed and needed independent investigation.
And I disclosed that the matter involved someone I had recently met."
I watched him carefully.
"Did you tell them everything about us?"
He gave me a tired smile.
"There's no 'us' to disclose beyond what actually happened."
I looked down.
"Right."
He stepped closer.
"Emily."
I raised my eyes.
"I don't want you to think I'm embarrassed by you."
My chest tightened.
"I'm not."
"I just don't want anyone to use our friendship to undermine your credibility."
I nodded.
He was right.
And I hated that he was right.
Then Daniel entered.
His expression was urgent.
"Mr. Whitman, we have a problem."
Noah turned.
"What?"
"Martin Keene contacted us."
"The private investigator?"
"Yes."
"What does he want?"
"He says he'll cooperate."
I stared.
"Why?"
Daniel looked at me.
"Because he believes Ryan is planning something that could put Lily in danger."
My knees weakened.
"What?"
Daniel held up his phone.
"He says he was hired to track your movements and help prepare the false account records."
I stared at him.
"And now?"
"He says Ryan has stopped paying him."
Noah's expression hardened.
"That's not enough reason to trust him."
"Agreed."
Daniel continued.
"But Keene has offered to turn over messages and invoices to investigators."
I swallowed.
"What does he want in exchange?"
"Legal protection.
And money he says he's owed."
Noah shook his head.
"We won't buy testimony."
Daniel nodded.
"I told him that."
I looked between them.
"Then why did he call?"
Daniel hesitated.
"Because he claims there's another person involved."
"Who?"
"Someone who's been close enough to know your schedule."
A horrible thought crossed my mind.
My friend in Chicago.
My aunt.
Someone at the apartment.
Then Daniel said, "He claims the person has access to information from inside Whitman Group."
Noah went still.
"Who?"
May you like
Daniel looked directly at him.
"Your executive assistant."
