Chapter 3
I ran before anybody else moved.
The fitting corridor curved behind the main salon and led toward a staff stairwell.
By the time I reached it, the door was open.
Footsteps hammered downward.
“Security!”
One of the guards rushed past me.
I followed.
Richard shouted my name from behind.
I ignored him.
I wasn’t chasing a tablet.
I was chasing evidence.
The stairwell emptied onto a service hallway behind the building.
When I pushed through the final door, cold air hit my face.
A man in a dark coat was already halfway toward the loading area.
“Stop!”
He looked back.
Young.
Thirty, maybe.
Then he ran faster.
The security guard chased him around a delivery truck.
I pulled out my phone.
Not to call police.
To photograph him.
Three shots.
One caught his face.
He disappeared toward the avenue.
The guard returned a minute later, breathing hard.
“Lost him.”
I showed him the picture.
“Do you know him?”
He looked carefully.
Then nodded.
“I’ve seen him.”
“Where?”
“Inside the store.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
“Employee?”
“No.”
He frowned.
“He was with Mr. Marsh.”
Ethan.
Whitmore’s employee.
Good.
We had a connection.
Bad.
The connection was getting stronger.
Back upstairs, Victoria looked shaken.
Richard looked furious.
Martin looked ready to disappear.
I held up the photo.
Victoria’s face changed immediately.
“Caleb.”
“Who is Caleb?”
“Adrian’s assistant.”
Richard swore.
I sent the photograph to my attorney.
“Why would he steal your tablet?” I asked.
Victoria looked embarrassed.
“Because Adrian knew what was on it.”
“Which was?”
“Messages.”
“About the acquisition?”
“Yes.”
“About the customer lists?”
She looked away.
“Yes.”
My anger sharpened.
“You knew those directives came from him.”
“I knew he suggested them.”
“You let him test discriminatory policies in my stores.”
Her eyes filled.
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“I thought he was showing me how brands protect exclusivity.”
“By deciding which people look rich enough to enter?”
She had no answer.
Richard spoke quietly.
“Victoria, give me your phone.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“Now.”
She handed it over.
He scrolled.
His face became harder with every second.
“What?” I asked.
He turned the phone toward me.
A message thread.
Adrian.
One message stood out.
Once the transaction closes, your father won’t control the board. We’ll fix that next.
I looked at Richard.
He had seen it too.
“Did you know what he meant?” I asked Victoria.
She shook her head.
“He told me you were weak.”
Richard’s eyes closed briefly.
“He told me you were going to sell pieces of the company and retire.”
Richard looked at his daughter.
“I was planning to give you a board seat.”
Victoria’s face broke.
“What?”
“I was waiting until after the acquisition.”
She stared at him.
“You never told me.”
“I wanted you to earn it.”
She laughed bitterly.
“So you tested me?”
“No.”
“I spent my whole life trying to prove I belonged there.”
Richard’s anger softened slightly.
But only slightly.
“And you proved it by conspiring with a man I fired?”
“I didn’t know why you fired him.”
“You could have asked.”
“You never tell me anything.”
That hit him.
I could see it.
But this was not the time for a family therapy session.
I stepped between them.
“Whatever problems exist between you two, Adrian used them.”
Victoria looked at me.
“He made me believe my father was replacing me.”
“Because fear makes people easier to manipulate.”
She wiped her face.
“I thought if I helped him improve Bellamy before closing, Dad would see I was useful.”
Richard’s voice was low.
“You were useful.”
She looked at him.
“To Adrian.”
That hurt.
I saw it land.
My phone rang again.
My chief counsel.
“We traced one data pull.”
“Source?”
“Bellamy internal credential.”
“Whose?”
Pause.
“Martin Ellis.”
Everybody in the room heard the silence that followed.
I turned slowly.
Martin’s face emptied.
“No.”
I put the call on speaker.
My attorney continued.
“His credentials were used remotely at 2:14 a.m. twelve days ago.”
Martin shook his head.
“I was home.”
“Did you share your password?”
“No.”
“Did anyone ask for it?”
He thought.
Then froze.
I saw the answer arrive.
“The analyst.”
“Ethan?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He said corporate was installing an inventory dashboard.”
My jaw tightened.
“Did you log in for him?”
“Yes.”
“Did he watch?”
Martin closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
My attorney spoke.
“That may be enough.”
Richard said, “Ethan’s access should be revoked immediately.”
“Already done,” my attorney replied.
I looked at Richard.
“You didn’t authorize that.”
He stared at me.
“You did?”
“My people called your compliance team after I canceled the deal.”
For the first time all day, he almost smiled.
“Good.”
A sales associate came rushing from the front.
“Ms. Carter?”
“What?”
“There are reporters outside.”
Victoria muttered something under her breath.
I walked toward the window.
Six cameras already faced the store.
That was too fast.
Much too fast.
“Who tipped them?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
A reporter held up her phone.
A headline was already circulating.
BELLAMY OWNER CANCELS WHITMORE DEAL AFTER DISPUTE WITH HEIRESS.
Another.
BILLIONAIRE CEO ACCUSED OF RETALIATION AGAINST CUSTOMER.
I stared at the screen.
There it was.
The story had been flipped.
Instead of Victoria humiliating me, I was now an unstable owner who killed a major deal because a customer argued with me.
Adrian was moving.
Fast.
Richard saw the headlines.
“That’s him.”
“You’re sure?”
“He used media leaks when he worked for us.”
Victoria whispered, “He told me you hated journalists because they could expose you.”
Richard laughed bitterly.
“I hated him because he bribed one.”
She went still.
“He what?”
“Seven years ago, he paid a reporter to bury a story about a fund he wanted us to invest in.”
Victoria sat down.
Everything she believed about Adrian was collapsing.
I looked toward the front doors.
“We need facts before we respond.”
Richard nodded.
Then his phone rang.
He checked the screen.
“Board chair.”
“Take it.”
He answered.
I listened only to his side.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I understand.”
His face tightened.
“When?”
He looked at me.
“Send it.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
“Our board received an anonymous packet.”
My stomach sank.
“About what?”
“Me.”
Victoria frowned.
“What about you?”
Richard looked at her.
“It claims I hid losses from Whitmore investors.”
“Is that true?”
“No.”
He hesitated.
Then corrected himself.
“Not like they’re claiming.”
I studied him.
“What does that mean?”
“We had a fund underperform five years ago.”
“How badly?”
“Twelve percent.”
“That’s not criminal.”
“No.”
“Did you disclose it?”
“Yes.”
“So what’s in the packet?”
“Altered reports.”
I felt the pattern.
Manipulated documents.
Leaked data.
Public pressure.
Adrian wasn’t simply stealing information.
He was shaping narratives.
One about me.
One about Richard.
He wanted both sides weakened.
Why?
The answer arrived before I could ask.
My attorney called again.
“Simone, North Coast Partners just filed an indication of interest to acquire Bellamy House.”
I stopped breathing.
“When?”
“Five minutes ago.”
“For how much?”
“Thirty percent below Whitmore’s valuation.”
Of course.
Richard looked at me.
He understood too.
Adrian wasn’t helping Whitmore buy Bellamy.
He was sabotaging Whitmore and me so North Coast could buy us cheaply.
Victoria whispered, “He used me.”
Nobody corrected her.
My phone buzzed with an email.
Subject:
NORTH COAST CONFIDENTIAL PROPOSAL.
I opened it.
Read the first page.
Then the second.
My anger became something colder.
Because the proposal included internal details that North Coast could only know from our stolen files.
Lease liabilities.
Supplier disputes.
Quarterly projections.
Even an unreleased restructuring plan.
I looked at Richard.
“This is bigger than a bad acquisition.”
He nodded.
“This is corporate theft.”
Victoria stood.
Her voice shook.
“I can help.”
I looked at her.
“You already did.”
Her face fell.
“I mean help fix it.”
I studied her.
She looked humiliated.
But humiliation wasn’t accountability.
“Then tell me everything.”
She took a breath.
“There’s a dinner tonight.”
“What dinner?”
“Adrian invited me.”
Richard’s expression hardened.
“Where?”
“Whitmore Tower.”
“Why?”
“He said investors from North Coast wanted to meet me.”
I stared at her.
“And you were going?”
“Yes.”
“Before today?”
“Yes.”
“After today?”
She looked at her father.
Then at me.
“I still can.”
Richard immediately said, “No.”
I said, “Yes.”
He turned.
“Simone.”
“If Adrian doesn’t know she’s cooperating, she’s our best access.”
“That’s my daughter.”
“And he already targeted her.”
Victoria stepped forward.
“I’ll do it.”
Richard stared at her.
She looked terrified.
But she didn’t look away.
“I started this.”
“No,” I said.
“Adrian started it.”
She looked at me.
“You gave him the door.”
Her eyes filled.
I continued.
“Now you can help close it.”
At seven that evening, Victoria entered Whitmore Tower wearing the same emerald dress.
May you like
Only this time, a tiny recorder was hidden beneath the collar.
And I was listening from a conference room two floors below.
