Chapter 2 - The Billionaire's Mother
The next morning, a black SUV was waiting outside my apartment.
I almost called the police.
Then the passenger window lowered.
The old woman from the bus shelter smiled.
“Good morning, Megan.”
I stared.
She was wearing a cream coat and a scarf.
No hospital gown.
No rain.
No weakness.
She looked completely different.
A man stepped out of the driver's side.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Impeccably dressed.
His expression was controlled.
“This is my son,” she said.
Adrian Whitmore.
I'd heard the name.
Everyone in Boston had.
Whitmore Holdings owned hotels, hospitals, shipping companies, and half the waterfront.
He was thirty-nine.
Billionaire.
Private.
And notoriously ruthless.
He looked at me.
“Thank you.”
“You don't have to thank me.”
“I do.”
He opened the rear door.
“My mother insists you come with us.”
I hesitated.
“Where?”
“My house.”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“No?”
“I don't go to strangers' houses.”
His mother laughed.
“Good.”
Adrian looked amused.
“She has a point.”
He took out a card.
“Then take my number.”
I accepted it.
His fingers brushed mine.
For one strange second, neither of us moved.
Then he said:
“I'll make this simple.”
He looked at me.
“You lost your job because you stopped to help my mother.”
I nodded.
“That's unfortunate.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“It's not unfortunate.”
“What do you mean?”
“I found out why.”
He handed me a folder.
Inside were payroll records from Harbor and Vine.
Missing tips.
Hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Names.
Accounts.
Transfers.
My name appeared repeatedly.
But beside my name was a number.
The money I should have received.
And the amount actually paid.
My stomach turned.
“Frank was stealing from us.”
“Yes.”
“And blaming employees.”
“Yes.”
“How did you get this?”
“My mother has been investigating him.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
She smiled.
“Because I was a customer.”
Adrian shook his head.
“She wasn't.”
His mother sighed.
“I was looking into one of his investors.”
I stared at her.
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
Adrian did.
“My father's former business partner.”
I frowned.
“Your father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“What does that have to do with my restaurant?”
“Everything.”
He leaned closer.
“My father died believing someone inside his company betrayed him.”
He looked at the records.
“I think that person is still alive.”
My phone buzzed.
A message from Frank.
You should have minded your own business.
I showed Adrian.
His expression became ice.
“Now we know.”
“Know what?”
“Why my mother was attacked.”
I stared.
“You think she was pushed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she was about to expose someone.”
May you like
His mother looked at me.
“And now you're involved.”
