Chapter 6 - The Woman Behind the Numbers
Melissa Vance had been the first person at SummitShield to congratulate me when I announced my engagement.
She'd sent flowers.
Hosted a small office party.
And offered to recommend a wedding planner.
At the time, I thought she was being kind.
Now I wondered whether she'd been celebrating the success of a plan.
I wanted to confront her.
I wanted to walk into the office, drop those photographs on her desk, and demand the truth.
Instead, I met Allison Park in a secured conference room at my company's headquarters.
"I need to ask you something," I said.
Allison folded her hands.
"Go ahead."
"Was Melissa ever involved in my compensation records?"
"She had access to certain finance systems as part of her role."
"What kind of access?"
"Payroll, expense information, and limited reporting connected to executive compensation."
"Could she see my stock grants?"
"Some summaries. Not unrestricted control over the awards."
"Could she see how much I owned?"
"Potentially enough to estimate your holdings."
I looked down.
That was all someone needed.
A rough number.
A wealthy woman.
An unmarried woman.
A lonely woman.
Someone whose mother had died.
Someone who spent most evenings working.
I had been easier to find than I'd imagined.
Allison continued.
"We identified unusual access activity involving your records. Melissa has been placed on administrative leave while an independent review proceeds."
"Has she said anything?"
"Only that she's being unfairly targeted."
I laughed without humor.
"Of course."
"Claire, I need you to understand something. We are treating these issues seriously, but we're not going to make disciplinary or legal conclusions without evidence."
"I know."
"Can you give me the original images you received?"
I forwarded them.
Her expression changed when she saw my mother.
"Where did you get these?"
"Someone sent them anonymously."
Allison studied the second photograph.
"Is that Melissa?"
"Yes."
She zoomed in.
Then she frowned.
"Claire, I don't think this photo was taken on the date printed at the bottom."
"Why?"
"Look at the building behind them."
It was a restaurant with a green awning.
My mother's old place on Seventeenth Street.
"The restaurant closed in 2018," Allison said.
"I know."
"That awning wasn't installed until 2017. I used to eat there."
I stared at the picture.
The date was 2016.
A year before the awning existed.
Someone had altered the image.
My heart pounded.
"Why would they send me a fake photograph?"
Allison looked grim.
"To make you believe something."
Martin hired a forensic image specialist.
Within hours, the specialist identified evidence suggesting the date had been digitally added.
The people in the photograph appeared genuine.
But its claimed timing was unreliable.
That changed everything.
Ryan could have met my mother later than the image suggested.
Melissa could have been present for an ordinary business event.
The photograph alone didn't prove a plan to target me.
And whoever had sent it knew I was desperate for answers.
Detective Reyes agreed.
"Someone may be feeding you a mixture of authentic and misleading material."
"Ryan?"
"Possibly. Or someone else."
"Why?"
"To control your decisions. To make you accuse the wrong person. To cause conflict with your attorney. There are several possibilities."
I hated uncertainty.
But uncertainty was better than believing lies because they happened to support my anger.
That night, Tessa called.
"I found something."
I sat upright.
"What?"
"An old calendar export."
"Does it show Melissa changed my flight?"
"Yes. But there's more."
I could hear her typing.
"Melissa originally requested the itinerary change for an event sponsored by Northpoint Advisory."
My blood chilled.
"Northpoint?"
"The same company you mentioned?"
"Yes."
Tessa continued.
"Claire, I remember why I thought the change was strange."
"Why?"
"The Chicago meeting wasn't real."
I stopped breathing.
"What?"
"The client canceled it two days earlier. Melissa told me the replacement meeting was confidential, so I kept the travel booking."
"Why would I be flying there?"
"That's the thing. You shouldn't have been."
I closed my eyes.
My supposed business trip.
The canceled flight.
The airport lounge.
Ryan.
There might never have been a legitimate reason for me to be at that airport.
"Send everything to Martin and Detective Reyes," I said.
"Already preparing it."
"Thank you."
Tessa hesitated.
"Claire?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Back then, I thought Melissa was helping you meet someone."
My pulse jumped.
"What did you just say?"
Tessa's voice trembled.
"She told me you were lonely."
I covered my mouth.
"She said she knew a nice guy who would be perfect for you."
The next morning, investigators obtained additional financial records through lawful process.
They discovered that Northpoint had paid a company owned by Ryan several months before we met.
The description of one payment read:
Client acquisition and relationship development.
I sat with the document in my lap.
The number beside the description was $75,000.
Seventy-five thousand dollars.
That was what someone had been paid around the time my husband entered my life.
Not proof that Ryan's affection was entirely fake.
Not proof of the purpose of every payment.
But a terrible question that demanded an answer.
Had he been paid to meet me?
Martin joined the call.
"Claire, there's a larger issue."
"What?"
"Northpoint's ownership structure leads through two other entities. One is tied to Grant."
"And the other?"
"An investment company based in Nevada."
"Who owns it?"
"We're trying to verify the beneficial owners."
"Why Nevada?"
"There's nothing inherently improper about that. But the structure complicates tracing."
I looked at the document again.
"Melissa?"
"We've found payments to a consulting business registered in her name."
"How much?"
"About $410,000 over two years."
I closed my eyes.
"She sold me out."
"That may ultimately be proven. Right now, we're documenting what the payments were for."
I opened my mouth to answer.
Then another call came through.
Unknown number.
I declined it.
A voicemail appeared almost immediately.
I played it on speaker.
A woman's voice whispered:
"Claire, this is Melissa."
Every muscle in my body tightened.
"I know you think I helped them. You're right about some of it."
A pause.
Then hurried breathing.
"But Grant didn't start this because of your stock."
She sounded terrified.
"He started it because your mother took something from him."
Another pause.
A door slammed in the background.
Melissa whispered one final sentence.
May you like
"And Ryan doesn't know who his father really is."
The recording ended.
