Chapter 5
I had trusted Terrence Brooks with my life.
We met when I was twenty-three.
I was working construction during the day and taking business classes at night.
Terrence was an experienced project manager who believed I could build something bigger.
When I started Bennett Construction, he became my first employee.
Later, I gave him a minority ownership stake.
He helped me hire workers.
He introduced me to suppliers.
He stood beside me at my father's funeral.
And now his voice was on a recording with the men trying to steal my company.
I played the audio again.
Terrence said, “Marcus won't sign unless he thinks the arrangement protects the business.”
Richard answered, “Then make him think that.”
Daniel laughed.
“Nia can handle the emotional side.”
Terrence spoke again.
“Just make sure this doesn't come back on me.”
I stopped the recording.
My hands shook.
Patricia looked at me.
“Who is Terrence?”
“My business partner.”
“What percentage does he own?”
“Twenty percent.”
She wrote something down.
“Does he have signing authority?”
“Limited authority for ordinary business expenses.”
“Can he approve loans?”
“Not without me.”
Patricia nodded.
“Then we need to review exactly what he has been doing.”
I looked out the window.
For years, Terrence had been the older brother I never had.
I remembered him teaching me how to negotiate contracts.
How to handle difficult clients.
How to avoid losing money on poorly priced jobs.
Had he always been waiting for a chance to take control?
Or had something changed?
My phone rang.
Terrence.
I stared at his name.
Patricia raised her hand.
“Let it go to voicemail.”
I did.
A moment later, he left a message.
“Marcus, I've been trying to reach you. We need to talk about the Riverside project. Call me.”
I looked at Patricia.
“The Riverside project is our biggest current contract.”
“How much?”
“Nearly two million dollars.”
She leaned forward.
“Any unusual payments?”
I thought carefully.
“Several recent change orders.”
“Who approved them?”
“Terrence.”
Patricia nodded slowly.
“Let's review those records.”
I drove to my company's office with Jasmine.
Patricia arranged to meet us there after speaking with an investigator.
Our office was in a renovated brick building near downtown Atlanta.
I bought it two years earlier.
I remembered standing outside with Nia when we received the keys.
She had kissed me and said she was proud.
Now I wondered whether any memory from our marriage was untouched.
Inside, my receptionist, Claire, looked worried.
“Marcus, are you okay?”
I forced a smile.
“Why?”
“Terrence said you were taking time off.”
I stopped.
“He said what?”
“He told everyone you had some personal issues.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“This morning.”
I looked toward Terrence's office.
“Is he here?”
“No. He left early.”
I nodded.
“Claire, I need copies of all recent Riverside payment records.”
She hesitated.
“Terrence told accounting not to release anything without his approval.”
I stared at her.
“It's my company.”
Her cheeks reddened.
“I know. I'm sorry.”
“Don't apologize. Just get the records.”
She nodded and hurried away.
Jasmine followed me into my office.
I sat behind my desk.
The room looked exactly as it had the week before.
My father's photograph stood beside my computer.
A framed certificate hung on the wall.
A small wooden plaque read: BUILD WITH HONESTY.
My father had given it to me when I started the business.
I stared at those words.
Then I opened my accounting dashboard.
Several payments caught my attention.
Forty-eight thousand dollars.
Thirty-six thousand.
Twenty-two thousand.
All listed as consulting expenses.
The recipient was a company called Southern Project Advisory.
I had never heard of it.
I opened the vendor record.
It had been created four months earlier.
The approved contact was Terrence.
My stomach dropped.
I called Claire.
“Can you find the original invoices for Southern Project Advisory?”
She searched.
“Marcus, there aren't any attached.”
I closed my eyes.
“Who approved the payments?”
“Terrence.”
I looked at Jasmine.
She shook her head.
We kept reviewing.
The payments totaled more than one hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
I felt physically sick.
That money could have paid several months of salaries.
It could have purchased equipment.
It could have protected the business during slow periods.
Instead, someone had moved it to a company I didn't recognize.
Patricia arrived twenty minutes later with a forensic accountant she trusted.
His name was David Harris.
He examined the records.
Then he asked for additional financial reports.
I watched his expression become increasingly serious.
“Marcus, this requires a full investigation.”
“Do you think Terrence stole the money?”
“I can't determine that yet. But these transactions lack normal documentation.”
I nodded.
David continued reviewing.
Then he found something else.
A pending transfer.
Ninety-five thousand dollars.
Scheduled for the following morning.
I stared at the screen.
“Can we stop it?”
“We should contact the bank immediately,” Patricia said.
I called.
Within minutes, the bank's fraud department placed the transfer under review.
For the first time that day, I felt we had prevented something.
Then Claire appeared at my door.
“Marcus?”
I looked up.
“What's wrong?”
She held out a small envelope.
“This arrived yesterday.”
“What is it?”
“I forgot to give it to you. It was addressed personally.”
I opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
If you want to know why Terrence betrayed you, ask him about the accident five years ago.
I stared at the words.
Five years ago.
Our wedding year.
I searched my memory.
Then I remembered an accident at one of our construction sites.
A worker named Anthony Cole had fallen from a scaffold.
He survived, but the injuries ended his construction career.
The company paid his medical expenses and reached a settlement through insurance.
Terrence had managed the case.
I hadn't thought about it in years.
I looked toward Patricia.
“Could this be connected?”
“Possibly.”
I showed her the note.
She studied it.
“Do you know who sent this?”
“No.”
I turned the envelope over.
There was no return address.
I called Terrence.
He answered immediately.
“Marcus, finally.”
“We need to talk.”
“Exactly. Meet me at the office.”
“I'm already here.”
Silence.
Then he said, “Who else is there?”
I looked toward Patricia.
“Why?”
“Just asking.”
“Terrence, what happened with Anthony Cole?”
The line went quiet.
For several seconds, I heard nothing.
Then Terrence said, “Why are you bringing that up?”
“Because someone thinks you have something to hide.”
His voice hardened.
“Marcus, be careful.”
I stared at the phone.
“Is that a threat?”
“No. It's advice.”
I stood.
“Tell me what happened.”
He exhaled.
“Not over the phone.”
“Then come here.”
Another silence.
Finally, he said, “There's something you need to understand.”
“What?”
“Your father knew about it.”
My heart stopped.
“My father died before that accident.”
Terrence said nothing.
I gripped the phone.
“What are you talking about?”
Then he whispered something that changed the entire story.
“Marcus, the accident wasn't five years ago.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“It happened six years ago. And the company records were changed.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why would anyone change the date?”
Terrence's voice trembled.
“Because the accident wasn't the only thing we were trying to hide.”
Before I could answer, the call ended.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
For the first time since my anniversary dinner, I wondered whether the people betraying me were protecting an older secret.
One that might have begun before my marriage ever existed.
