Chapter 2 - MY HUSBAND SWORE HE HAD NEVER STOLEN A DOLLAR—THEN HIS MISTRESS DISAPPEARED WITH A FLASH DRIVE THAT PROVED SOMEONE HAD USED HIS NAME TO HIDE A $780 MILLION CORPORATE FRAUD
Brooke didn't make it out of the hotel.
Security stopped her near the loading dock.
Inside her purse was a flash drive.
Two phones.
One passport.
And $18,000 in cash.
That was when the gala officially ended.
Police arrived.
Then lawyers.
Then auditors.
Then an ambulance because my blood pressure had climbed high enough that my obstetrician wanted me examined.
Kyle tried to follow.
I stopped him.
“No.”
“Claire, you're pregnant.”
“I noticed.”
“I should come.”
“No.”
“I'm her father.”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
“That doesn't make you my husband tonight.”
The words hit.
He stepped back.
Ethan rode with me.
At the hospital, our daughter was fine.
My cheek wasn't broken.
My blood pressure eventually stabilized.
Ethan sat beside my bed.
For twenty minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then:
“I shouldn't have said fire him like that.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because it looked like I fired him for hurting you.”
“You fired him because of the audit.”
“Yes.”
“Then why regret it?”
“Because I'm CEO.”
“You're my brother too.”
“I blurred them.”
I smiled.
“Dad would be horrified.”
“Dad fired a vice president for insulting Mom's potato salad.”
“True.”
We laughed.
Then I cried.
Pregnancy.
Betrayal.
Adrenaline.
Take your pick.
Ethan held my hand.
“Do you want me to destroy him?”
“No.”
He looked relieved.
“Good.”
“I want the truth.”
“That I can do.”
The truth arrived slowly.
Kyle had authorized the payments.
That part was undeniable.
His digital signature appeared on every transaction.
But he insisted he believed the consulting firms were legitimate vendors recommended by Brooke.
“Why didn't you verify them?”
the outside investigator asked.
Kyle sat across from the special board committee.
Because I was chairwoman, I recused myself from decisions involving him.
That was important.
Kyle wasn't being investigated by his wife.
He was being investigated by Reed Meridian.
“I trusted Brooke.”
“Why?”
“She had relationships in Charleston.”
“Personal relationships?”
Kyle closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Were you having an affair when you approved the first contract?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
The first contract predated the affair by four months.
The investigator continued.
“Then why trust her?”
“Her father was a developer.”
“Daniel Carver.”
“Yes.”
Daniel Carver.
Former state infrastructure adviser.
Developer.
Political fundraiser.
And apparently the owner behind several shell companies.
Brooke hadn't seduced Kyle simply because she wanted him.
She had targeted him.
That did not excuse Kyle.
He had still betrayed me.
Still lied.
Still hidden me.
Still allowed ego to become a vulnerability.
But adultery and fraud were different questions.
The investigation needed to treat them separately.
Then Brooke disappeared.
She had been questioned but not arrested the night of the gala because the initial evidence wasn't enough to hold her.
By morning, she was gone.
Her apartment was empty.
Her father claimed he hadn't seen her.
The flash drive contained encrypted files.
Our forensic team broke the first layer.
Inside were emails showing Daniel Carver planned to buy contaminated Harbor Point parcels cheaply through shell companies.
Reed Meridian would then purchase them at inflated values.
Public incentives would fund cleanup.
Carver entities would receive consulting contracts.
Projected profit:
More than $90 million.
But there was another participant.
Someone inside Reed Meridian identified only as R.
Kyle's initials weren't R.
Neither were Brooke's.
Ethan called me.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“Do you know anyone Kyle worked with whose last name starts with R?”
I laughed.
“We're Reeds.”
Silence.
That was the problem.
R could mean someone in my family.
Ethan.
Me.
Our late father.
Our cousin Nathan Reed, who served as executive vice president of acquisitions.
Nathan.
I sat up.
Nathan had pushed Harbor Point harder than anyone except Kyle.
He had also recommended Brooke for her position two years earlier.
I called Ethan.
“Check Nathan.”
He went quiet.
“I already am.”
Nathan Reed was our father's nephew.
Our cousin.
He'd grown up with us.
Spent Christmases at our house.
Carried my train at my first wedding dress fitting because Ethan refused.
Nathan had also spent his entire adult life believing my father should have given him more.
More equity.
More authority.
More recognition.
When Dad died, Nathan received five percent.
I received thirty-eight.
Ethan received twenty-nine.
Nathan called it “generous.”
His face had said something else.
The audit found Nathan had approved land valuations using outside reports supplied by Carver firms.
Then came the email.
From Nathan to Brooke:
Kyle's ego is the door. Keep it open.
My stomach turned.
Another:
Make him believe every challenge is Claire's family disrespecting him.
Brooke replied:
Already working.
Nathan:
Good. Once he signs, he owns the problem.
There it was.
Kyle had been manipulated.
And he'd made himself easy to manipulate.
Because Brooke told him what he wanted to hear.
That he was brilliant.
Underappreciated.
Held back by his wife's family.
That Claire Reed was embarrassed by him.
That Ethan Reed took credit for his work.
Every insecurity I'd watched grow for years had been cultivated deliberately.
Again:
Not innocence.
Vulnerability.
Kyle had signed contracts without sufficient diligence.
He had concealed his affair.
He had lied to me.
He had violated company policy by failing to disclose his relationship with a subordinate on connected projects.
He deserved consequences.
But he might not be a thief.
Three days after the gala, Kyle appeared at my house.
I almost didn't let him in.
Then I remembered something.
He was still the father of my daughter.
I opened the door.
He looked terrible.
No suit.
No shave.
No expensive watch.
“I won't stay.”
“Good.”
He swallowed.
“I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I knew Brooke wanted Harbor Point approved.”
“Obviously.”
“I didn't know about the shell companies.”
“Okay.”
“But I ignored things.”
“What things?”
“Questions.”
“Numbers that didn't make sense.”
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because every time I questioned something, Brooke said I was becoming like Ethan.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
“Cautious.”
“Conservative.”
“Afraid to make decisions.”
I almost laughed.
“Ethan runs a company worth twenty-three billion dollars.”
“I know.”
“Now.”
He sat.
“Claire, I became obsessed with proving I didn't need your family.”
“You already had.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You don't get to say you know now as if that fixes what you did.”
He lowered his eyes.
“You were successful.”
“You were respected.”
“You earned promotions.”
“But eventually being successful wasn't enough.”
“You needed to be more important than me.”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
Then:
“And Brooke?”
He cried.
“I wanted someone to look at me the way you used to.”
I stared.
“I was carrying your child.”
“I know.”
“I had two miscarriages with you.”
“I know.”
“I spent three years defending your career whenever somebody suggested nepotism.”
“I know.”
“And because I wasn't impressed enough by your title anymore, you slept with a woman who was?”
Kyle covered his face.
No answer.
Good.
Some questions don't deserve excuses.
I stood.
“I’m filing for divorce.”
He nodded.
“I figured.”
“You'll have access to our daughter if you're safe and involved.”
He looked up.
“Claire—”
“I will never use her to punish you for what you did to me.”
His face broke.
“But our marriage is over.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He stood.
At the door, he stopped.
“Nathan knew.”
“What?”
“That you were pregnant.”
I went still.
“How?”
“I told him.”
“Why?”
“Before you announced it.”
“I was happy.”
“He congratulated me.”
Kyle swallowed.
“Then he said something strange.”
“What?”
“He said a baby would make you easier to control.”
My blood ran cold.
“What exactly?”
“He said, ‘Once Claire has the baby, she'll stop playing chairwoman and focus on what matters.’”
I stared.
“When?”
“Five months ago.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I thought it was a stupid joke.”
Nathan wasn't simply stealing.
He had been planning around my pregnancy.
I called Ethan.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Ethan.
DO NOT COME TO THE OFFICE.
I called.
Nothing.
Another message arrived.
It wasn't from Ethan.
Unknown number.
Attached photograph.
Ethan sitting in a chair inside an unfinished building.
Hands bound.
Nathan standing behind him.
Message:
YOU WANTED THE TRUTH, CHAIRWOMAN.
May you like
COME GET IT.
ALONE.
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