Chapter 3 - The Woman Behind the Numbers
Graham sat down.
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
“The money was for strategic marketing.”
“Twenty-three million?”
“We were expanding.”
“You could have expanded without secretly paying her family.”
“It wasn't her money.”
“It was her brother's.”
“He had connections.”
“With whom?”
Graham didn't answer.
I sat across from him.
“You've been laundering company funds.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“You don't understand how this business works.”
“I understand numbers.”
“I made decisions.”
“You hid them.”
“Yes.”
That honesty surprised me.
“Why?”
He looked exhausted.
“Because I knew you would stop me.”
“Would I?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You were always conservative.”
I stared.
“I kept your company alive.”
“You kept me cautious.”
“And Sienna made you reckless.”
His jaw tightened.
“She believed in me.”
“I believed in you before anyone knew your name.”
Silence.
I stood.
“I think we're done.”
He grabbed my wrist.
I froze.
He immediately released me.
“I'm sorry.”
I stepped back.
“Don't touch me again.”
He nodded.
“I won't.”
I turned toward the door.
“Claire.”
I stopped.
“I did love you.”
I looked back.
“Maybe.”
He looked devastated.
“But you loved what I made you feel more than you loved me.”
That sentence stayed with him long after I left.
At Evelyn's office the following day, we found another problem.
The seven million dollar transfer had not been unauthorized.
Graham had personally approved it.
But beneath the transaction was a second signature.
Sienna Blake.
She had signed as an executive witness.
“She was in on it,” I said.
Evelyn nodded.
“Possibly from the beginning.”
“Then why betray Graham now?”
“We need to find out.”
We traced the shell companies.
The trail led to a private investment fund.
The fund was controlled by a man named Adrian Cross.
I recognized the name.
He was one of Chicago's most aggressive logistics investors.
Three years earlier, he had tried to buy Doyle Freight.
Graham rejected him.
Now I remembered something.
Sienna had introduced Graham to Cross.
I called Graham.
“Who is Adrian Cross?”
He went silent.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Your company.”
“Stay away from him.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't trust him.”
“Do you trust Sienna?”
Another silence.
“No.”
“Why?”
“She disappeared this morning.”
I sat straighter.
“What?”
“She took files.”
“Which files?”
“Board documents.”
“Anything else?”
“Access credentials.”
“Graham, you need to tell the police.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“I already did.”
My heart stopped.
“Then why are you calling me?”
“Because the police told me something.”
“What?”
“They found her car.”
“Where?”
“Near the river.”
I drove there with Evelyn.
Sienna's car had been abandoned beneath the lower Wacker Drive ramp.
Her phone was inside.
The screen was cracked.
There was blood on the passenger seat.
But no body.
I stared at the scene.
Evelyn whispered,
“This just became much more serious.”
I agreed.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Sienna's voice whispered,
“Claire?”
I froze.
“Sienna?”
“Don't trust Graham.”
I looked around.
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Who did this?”
“Adrian.”
“What does he want?”
“He wants what your father gave you.”
My pulse stopped.
“What does he know?”
“He knows you're the real owner.”
“How?”
“Graham told him.”
I closed my eyes.
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“Why?”
“He wanted financing.”
I felt sick.
“So Graham sold me out.”
“He thought you were too weak to fight.”
I almost laughed.
“He was wrong.”
“Claire, listen.”
I heard a vehicle nearby.
“I don't have much time.”
“What do you need?”
“Find the red ledger.”
“Where?”
“Your house.”
“The old one?”
“Yes.”
“Where exactly?”
“In the nursery.”
The line went dead.
I looked at Evelyn.
“Let's go.”
At the old Doyle house, I entered the room that had once been meant for our future child.
Graham and I had painted it pale yellow.
Then we never used it.
A crib sat untouched for two years before we finally donated it.
The room had become storage.
I searched the closet.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the wallpaper.
There was one strip with a tiny tear.
I pulled.
A panel opened.
Inside was a red leather ledger.
I brought it to Evelyn.
She opened the first page.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Politicians.
Bankers.
Judges.
And one signature.
Graham Doyle.
But this wasn't merely evidence of fraud.
There were payments to Adrian Cross.
Thirty-four million dollars.
Then another name.
My father's.
I froze.
“Lucien?”
Evelyn turned the page.
“No.”
“That's impossible.”
The signature was almost identical.
But something was wrong.
“The date,” Evelyn whispered.
The transaction was dated two years after my father's supposed retirement.
“Your father was never involved.”
“Then who signed this?”
We compared the handwriting.
Evelyn shook her head.
“Someone forged it.”
The phone rang.
Lucien.
“Princess.”
“Dad.”
“You found the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“You need to leave the house.”
“Why?”
“Because Adrian Cross knows where you are.”
I looked toward the window.
A black SUV had stopped outside.
“Too late.”
Lucien's voice changed.
“Get downstairs.”
The front door opened.
Two men entered.
I grabbed Evelyn's hand.
We ran.
Down the servants' stairs.
Through the basement.
A gunshot shattered the kitchen window.
Evelyn pulled me behind a concrete wall.
“Stay here.”
“I'm not leaving you.”
“You're the reason they're here.”
“I know.”
Then another voice came through the house.
“Claire!”
Graham.
I almost stepped out.
Evelyn grabbed me.
“Wait.”
Graham shouted again.
“Claire, it's me.”
The men inside moved toward his voice.
Then I heard a struggle.
A gunshot.
Silence.
Evelyn looked at me.
“Don't move.”
Minutes passed.
Finally, footsteps faded.
Then a phone vibrated.
Mine.
A message.
From Graham.
I know where Sienna is.
Come alone.
I looked at Evelyn.
“This is a trap.”
“Yes.”
I smiled faintly.
“Good.”
She frowned.
“You sound like you're enjoying this.”
“Not yet.”
May you like
I looked at the red ledger.
“But I think I'm finally ready.”
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