Chapter 5
I barely slept after Emma's final message.
Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined the young accountant sitting alone somewhere, frightened because she had tried to do the right thing.
At seven in the morning, I called Mr. Bennett.
"Have you heard from her?"
"Yes."
I sat upright.
"Is she safe?"
"She's with a relative. Rebecca spoke to her last night."
Relief rushed through me.
"Thank God."
"Emma believes someone accessed her work email shortly after she contacted you. We're examining the logs, but we don't know who saw the message."
"Can she still meet us?"
"She's agreed."
I pressed my hand over my heart.
"Tell her I appreciate what she's doing."
Three hours later, Emma entered a private conference room.
She was twenty-six, with nervous eyes and a folder clutched tightly against her chest.
The moment she saw me, she stood straighter.
"Ms. Carter, I'm sorry."
I frowned.
"Why are you apologizing?"
"Because I should have spoken sooner."
I pulled out a chair.
"Emma, sit down. You haven't done anything wrong by raising concerns."
She hesitated.
Then sat.
Rebecca began the interview.
Emma explained that she had noticed repeated invoices from unfamiliar consulting firms.
Some contained identical descriptions.
Others listed work allegedly performed on dates when the related projects were inactive.
She had questioned them.
Her supervisor initially promised to investigate.
Then Julian requested a private meeting.
Emma's voice trembled as she remembered it.
"He told me that people who couldn't understand executive-level finance weren't qualified to work there."
I felt anger rising.
"What happened next?"
"He said that if I continued questioning his decisions, I'd be fired."
"Did you report that?"
"I tried."
She looked down.
"My supervisor told me to forget it."
Rebecca asked several careful questions.
Then Emma opened her folder.
Inside were transaction summaries, preserved correspondence, and copies of invoices she had been authorized to retain.
She had documented dates.
Names.
Approval references.
And the discrepancies she noticed.
Rebecca examined everything without making premature conclusions.
Finally, she nodded.
"This is potentially very useful. We'll verify it against the original systems."
Emma took a breath.
"There's something else."
My heart quickened.
"The wedding?"
She nodded.
"Three days before your ceremony, Mr. Mercer asked me to arrange a private courier pickup."
"For what?"
"A sealed package going to a law office."
Mr. Bennett leaned forward.
"Which office?"
Emma named a firm I had never heard of.
"I saw the courier receipt because it was billed to the company."
"Do you know what was inside?"
"No."
She swallowed.
"But Mr. Mercer accidentally left a draft cover sheet on the printer."
She handed us a copy.
I read the heading.
"Post-Marital Asset Control."
My stomach dropped.
Below it was a proposed agreement that would have given Julian substantial financial authority over assets connected to my trust.
It was not a valid transfer.
There was no evidence I had approved it.
But the intention was unmistakable.
He had been preparing to claim control over my inheritance.
Emma looked at me.
"I also overheard him talking to Sienna."
I raised my eyes.
"When?"
"The night before the wedding."
My mouth went dry.
"What did they say?"
Emma hesitated.
Then continued.
"Sienna asked why he was still going through with the ceremony."
I gripped the chair.
"And Julian?"
"He told her the marriage was necessary."
The room went quiet.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
Emma's eyes filled with tears.
"He said, 'After the paperwork is finished, Clara won't be able to stop us.'"
I stared at her.
No one spoke.
I wanted to deny it.
To insist there must be another explanation.
But there wasn't.
The man who had kissed me at the altar had already been planning how to use me.
I felt the tears coming.
Then I stopped fighting them.
Rebecca quietly offered me a tissue.
I took it.
"Thank you, Emma."
She looked terrified.
"Am I going to lose my job?"
I stared at her.
"No."
"But Mr. Mercer—"
"Julian doesn't make that decision anymore. And nobody should punish you for reporting suspected misconduct."
Mr. Bennett added that the company would preserve her legal protections and investigate any retaliation.
Emma began crying.
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
"You helped protect people you've never even met."
She wiped her face.
"I was scared."
"So was I."
For the first time, she smiled.
After the meeting, Rebecca requested records from the outside law firm through appropriate legal channels.
She also expanded the audit.
By late afternoon, we had a clearer picture of the suspicious transactions.
Several payments appeared to support Pacific Meridian's attempted acquisition of Carter Holdings properties.
The preliminary evidence also suggested funds had been used for personal luxury expenses.
Including jewelry.
Travel.
And accommodation.
I stared at one expense report.
A designer bracelet.
Purchased three weeks before my wedding.
The price matched the bracelet Sienna wore at JFK.
I felt nauseated.
"He bought her gift with company money?"
Rebecca nodded carefully.
"The payment appears to have come through a corporate expense account. We're checking whether it was improperly classified."
I closed my eyes.
Julian had used the company my mother helped build to purchase a present for his mistress.
There was something uniquely cruel about that.
That evening, Dad found me sitting alone in the library.
I was holding a photograph of my mother.
She stood beside the first Carter Holdings office, smiling proudly.
Dad sat beside me.
"Your mother used to say that success reveals character."
I looked at the photograph.
"She would have hated Julian."
Dad gave a sad smile.
"She might have spotted him before either of us did."
"I should have."
"Clara."
I looked at him.
"People who deceive others often spend enormous effort earning trust. Don't turn his choices into your shame."
I leaned against his shoulder.
"I thought he loved me."
"I know."
"I loved him."
"I know that too."
My throat tightened.
"How do I stop?"
Dad took my hand.
"You don't have to stop feeling something overnight. You just have to stop letting it decide what you deserve."
I cried quietly.
He stayed beside me.
An hour later, Mr. Bennett called.
The outside law firm had responded.
Its records confirmed that someone acting on Julian's instructions had prepared financial documents before the wedding.
But there was another name associated with the proposed financing.
Not Sienna.
Not Julian.
Margaret Mercer.
Julian's mother.
I sat upright.
"What?"
Mr. Bennett sounded grim.
"Margaret appears to have participated in arranging a prospective lender introduction."
I remembered her visit.
Her anger.
Her warning.
Her strange statement.
Julian was supposed to handle this quietly.
Suddenly, everything fit.
"She knew," I whispered.
"We don't yet know the extent of her knowledge."
But I knew one thing.
Margaret had not come to my father's house to save my marriage.
May you like
She had come to protect whatever her son had promised her.
And the next morning, I learned just how desperate the Mercer family had become.
