Chapter 4 - THE SECOND WAREHOUSE

Grant snatched the phone.

Rachel slapped him.

The sound cracked through the dining room.

Everyone froze.

Grant slowly touched his cheek.

Then something inside him seemed to shut off.

He handed her phone to Richard.

“We’re done.”

“Grant—”

“We are done.”

Rachel tried to grab the phone back, but Daniel stepped in front of her.

“Don’t.”

For the first time in my life, I saw fear in Rachel’s eyes.

Not embarrassment.

Not anger.

Fear.

Richard opened the message thread.

He read silently.

His breathing grew heavier.

“What second property?”

Rachel folded her arms.

“I have no idea.”

I opened the final property search.

“There’s another warehouse in New Haven County.”

Nathan pulled up the address.

“Purchased eighteen months ago.”

“Owner?” Richard asked.

Nathan hesitated.

“Grant Carter.”

Grant laughed.

But there was no humor in it.

“I don’t own a warehouse.”

According to the county record, he did.

A six-million-dollar industrial building purchased through a mortgage personally guaranteed by Grant.

His signature appeared in nineteen places.

Grant stared at Rachel.

“You forged me too?”

She shook her head.

“You signed some documents last year.”

“I signed refinancing papers for the house.”

“Exactly.”

His mouth opened.

Then closed.

I understood immediately.

“You slipped the guarantee into the closing packet.”

Rachel looked at me with pure hatred.

“You think you’re so smart.”

“No.”

I felt surprisingly calm.

“I think you counted on everyone being too busy to notice.”

Richard looked at Nathan.

“Why would Rachel put the property under Grant’s name?”

Nathan scrolled.

“Because Whitmore Home Supply paid a six-hundred-thousand-dollar security deposit for a ten-year lease three weeks ago.”

Richard’s face reddened.

“What lease?”

“There’s a signed contract.”

“Who approved it?”

Nathan opened another file.

Then went still.

“What?”

Daniel asked.

Nathan turned the screen toward us.

Two electronic approvals.

One from Rachel.

One from Richard.

Richard stared.

“I never signed that.”

Rachel’s shoulders stiffened.

Nathan examined the record.

“This authorization came from your executive account.”

“At what time?”

“Two fourteen in the morning.”

Richard’s expression changed.

I felt the same cold feeling I had experienced when I first discovered the warehouse.

Because Richard never used his company laptop at home.

Never.

He didn’t even know his password without checking the card his assistant kept inside his office drawer.

Someone had accessed his account.

Daniel looked at me.

“Claire.”

“I know.”

Nathan pulled up the access logs.

The approval had come from inside Whitmore headquarters.

At 2:14 a.m.

On a Saturday.

Security badge logs showed only one employee inside the building.

Not Rachel.

Marcus Lane.

Richard frowned.

“Who is he?”

I answered.

“Whitmore’s director of procurement.”

Evelyn gasped.

“He works for us?”

“For eleven years.”

Rachel closed her eyes.

Grant looked at her.

“Are you sleeping with him?”

She opened them.

“That has nothing to do with this.”

Which was an answer.

Grant staggered backward.

“Oh, my God.”

“Grant—”

“Don’t touch me.”

Richard looked at his daughter.

“You were stealing from your family with an employee you were having an affair with?”

Rachel suddenly smiled.

And something about that smile scared me.

“You still don’t understand.”

Richard’s jaw tightened.

“What don’t I understand?”

She looked directly at him.

“The company was never going to survive next year anyway.”

The room went silent.

May you like

MY HUSBAND SAID NO ONE WOULD BELIEVE ME—THEN A DETECTIVE'S VOICE CAME FR...

My husband punched the wall beside my head and grabbed my bruised chin. “No one will believe you over me,” he whispered. For five...

“A Corrupt Sheriff Ruined My 17-Year-Old Son’s Future—He Never Knew His...

A corrupt Sheriff shot my 17-year-old son, permanently destroying both his kneecaps. "Shouldn't have looked at me wrong, boy," the...

“BEG LOUDER, SWEETHEART. YOUR DADDY WON'T BELIEVE YOU UNLESS YOU CRY.”

“BEG LOUDER, SWEETHEART. YOUR DADDY WON'T BELIEVE YOU UNLESS YOU CRY.”My six-year-old daughter was chained to a metal pool railing...

Then she added:

“Marcus and I were just making sure we weren’t the ones left with nothing.”