Chapter 2: The Files
The room seemed to shrink around me.
I looked at the document again.
My name.
My signature.
My ownership percentage.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
“This can't be right.””
My father pulled out a chair.
“Sit.””
I didn't.
“Dad, you told me those shares were part of a trust.””
“They were.””
“You said you managed them.””
“I did.””
“Then why is my name on the controlling shareholder agreement?””
“Because three years ago, the trust matured.””
I stared at him.
“And you never told me?””
“I tried.””
“You never told me I controlled Whitmore.””
“I told you that you owned a substantial portion.””
“Substantial?””
My voice rose.
“You let me believe I owned a few investments.””
My father exhaled.
“You were twenty-seven.””
“And now I'm thirty.””
“Yes.””
“And you still didn't tell me?””
He looked toward my mother.
She lowered her eyes.
I suddenly understood.
They had both known.
All these years.
My father leaned against the desk.
“I wanted you to build a life without everyone knowing your financial position.””
“That sounds convenient.””
“It was protection.””
“Protection from what?””
“People like Ethan.””
The name hung between us.
My mother came closer.
“Your father wasn't trying to control your life.””
“He hid my own company from me.””
“You knew you had shares.””
“I didn't know I had the controlling stake.””
My father nodded.
“You own fifty-two percent.””
I stared at him.
Fifty-two percent.
Controlling.
Enough to determine the board.
Enough to approve or remove senior executives.
Enough to decide the direction of a company worth hundreds of millions.
And Ethan had no idea.
A strange memory surfaced.
Six months earlier, Ethan had sat across from my father at dinner and said, “Mr. Whitmore, I appreciate the opportunity. I'll prove I deserve the COO position.””
My father had simply replied, “I'm sure you will.””
At the time, I'd thought my father was impressed.
Now I wasn't sure.
My phone vibrated again.
Ethan.
I opened the message.
Where are you?
Another came immediately.
Vanessa says you're upset over nothing.
Then:
Come back to the reception.
I stared at the screen.
My father held out his hand.
“Don't answer.””
I locked the phone.
“What's in the rest of the file?””
My father hesitated.
“That depends on how much you want to know tonight.””
“All of it.””
He opened another folder.
“This is the due-diligence report we conducted before Ethan was hired.””
My heartbeat changed.
“Why was there a due-diligence report on him?””
“Because he was being considered for a senior executive position.””
“You knew about Vanessa?””
“Yes.””
I looked at my mother.
“You knew?””
She nodded slowly.
“We knew they had dated.””
“Did you know they were still in contact?””
My father said nothing.
I understood.
“You knew.””
“We suspected.””
I turned away.
My wedding dress brushed against the chair.
For months, Ethan had told me Vanessa was ancient history.
“She means nothing.””
“She lives in another state.””
“She got married.””
“She isn't part of my life.””
Yet somehow, on our wedding night, she had appeared in a scarlet dress and climbed into our limousine.
I looked at the report.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
My father closed his eyes.
“Because every time I tried to discuss her, you defended him.””
I didn't answer.
That was true.
I had defended Ethan.
More than once.
The first warning had come from my cousin.
The second from my father's assistant.
The third had come from Ethan's former colleague, who had told me Ethan was obsessed with climbing the corporate ladder.
I had ignored all of them.
Because Ethan had looked at me with those gray eyes and said, “Everyone is jealous of what we have.””
I had believed him.
My father slid a photograph across the desk.
It showed Ethan and Vanessa outside a restaurant.
The date was printed beneath it.
Six weeks before my wedding.
My fingers went cold.
“They weren't supposed to be seeing each other.””
“They weren't supposed to be.””
I picked up another photograph.
Ethan and Vanessa.
Another.
Ethan entering a hotel.
Vanessa entering ten minutes later.
Another.
Both of them leaving together.
I swallowed.
“Were they having an affair?””
“We don't know.””
“You investigated them.””
“We investigated Ethan's professional background. Some of this came up.””
I put the photographs down.
“Then why did you let me marry him?””
My father's jaw tightened.
“Because I believed you deserved the right to make your own decision.””
I laughed once.
There was nothing funny about it.
“Apparently I did.””
My mother touched my shoulder.
“What are you thinking?””
I looked at the wedding ring on the desk.
“I think I need to know why Vanessa came tonight.””
My father nodded.
“That's what I wanted you to see.””
He opened the final folder.
Inside was a printed email.
The sender was Vanessa.
The recipient was Ethan.
The date was two weeks earlier.
My eyes moved across the page.
Once you're married, she won't suspect anything.
My breath stopped.
I read the next line.
You said the board vote is the week after the wedding.
Then another.
Once you're in control, Laurel will have no idea what happened.
I looked at my father.
“Control of what?””
He pointed to the last paragraph.
I read it.
Then I read it again.
Your wife doesn't know she controls the company.
My hands started shaking.
The next sentence was worse.
Once you become CEO, you can make sure those shares end up where they belong.
I whispered, “Where they belong?””
My father nodded grimly.
“Keep reading.””
I did.
May you like
And at the bottom of the email was one sentence that made my entire body go cold.
Then we can finally take back what my family lost.
