Chapter 5
The board came to me two days later.
Not all of them.
Just three.
Elaine Porter, chair of audit.
Samir Shah, legal counsel.
And my godfather, Thomas Reed.
Thomas had been my mother’s closest friend.
After she died, he stayed near us until Dad slowly pushed him out.
Seeing him in my hospital doorway made something inside me loosen.
“Tom,” I whispered.
His eyes filled.
“Hello, kiddo.”
I cried before I could stop myself.
He sat beside my bed and took my hand with both of his.
“I should have come sooner.”
“Yes,” I said.
The honesty surprised us both.
He nodded.
“I know.”
Elaine placed a folder on the tray table.
“Claire, did you authorize Dylan to access the Eastern logistics report last month?”
“No.”
“Did your father ask you to delay the internal audit?”
“Yes.”
Samir leaned forward.
“Do you remember why?”
My head throbbed.
I searched.
Pieces floated.
A meeting.
Dad’s office.
Dylan pacing.
A missing vendor payment.
My father saying, “Family first.”
Then me saying, “Not if family is stealing.”
I looked up.
“Dylan was hiding losses.”
Elaine’s face tightened.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
A flash.
Numbers.
A spreadsheet.
Red cells.
“Maybe twelve million.”
Samir cursed softly.
Thomas closed his eyes.
The promotion had not been just recognition.
It had been a threat.
As COO, I would control audits, operations, and vendor approvals.
Dylan’s theft would surface.
Dad knew.
Maybe he had always known.
“Claire,” Elaine said gently, “we need access to your backup files.”
“My office.”
“Your office was wiped.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Your computer, cloud drive, desk files. All reset under executive authorization.”
Dad again.
Maya stepped from the corner.
“She has a personal backup.”
Everyone turned.
I blinked at her.
“I do?”
Maya smiled faintly.
“You told me never to trust a system Dylan could touch.”
A strange relief passed through me.
Even before the injury, some part of me had known.
Maya pulled a small key from her bag.
“Safety deposit box.”
I stared at it.
The memory came slowly.
Rain.
Me and Maya at the bank.
A hard drive.
My mother’s old necklace.
The box number written inside a cookbook.
I laughed and cried at once.
Tom squeezed my hand.
“That’s my girl.”
Dad tried to visit that afternoon.
Hospital security refused him.
May you like
He called me again.
This time, I did not answer.
