Chapter 3 - SIGN HERE
Natalie reached for the laptop.
I caught her wrist.
“Don’t delete anything.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
The pounding came again.
“Ms. Bennett?”
I checked the peephole.
Our overnight guard stood beside a man wearing a Westbridge badge.
I recognized him from corporate security.
“Call your lawyer,” Luca said through the phone.
“I don’t have one.”
“You will. Don’t sign anything.”
I opened the door with the chain in place.
The Westbridge man glanced past me.
“Company property needs to be returned.”
“At midnight?”
“This is urgent.”
“So is a written inventory.”
His expression changed.
“Excuse me?”
“You can collect it tomorrow through counsel. Send the request in writing.”
He leaned closer.
“Cooperating would look better for you.”
Natalie stepped into view.
“Threatening an employee in her home won’t look great for you either.”
The building guard shifted uncomfortably.
“Let’s handle this in the morning,” he told the man.
I shut the door.
My hands started shaking only after the lock clicked.
Luca was still on the line.
“Claire?”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“I know.”
“But you can give me the lawyer’s number.”
By eight the next morning, I sat across from Elena Ruiz in a small office that smelled like coffee and printer toner.
Luca waited outside.
I had insisted.
Elena read Martin’s statement once.
Then she slid it away.
“Don’t sign this.”
“That bad?”
“It says you created the vendors, approved the payments, and acted without company knowledge.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then we start there.”
She arranged secure preservation of the laptop and sent Westbridge a notice that relevant records had to be retained.
“Your assistant did the right thing bringing the computer out of immediate danger,” she said. “Now nobody touches it without documenting what they do.”
My phone buzzed.
Mom.
“Your father’s asking for you.”
“I’m coming.”
“One more thing,” she said. “Ryan called the nurses’ station.”
I straightened.
“What did he want?”
“He said you were under a lot of stress. That you might make accusations.”
Elena watched my face.
Mom continued, “He asked whether someone should check on you.”
My husband had left me yesterday.
Today he was building a story in which I couldn’t be trusted.
When I stepped into the hallway, Luca stood.
“What happened?”
I held up my phone.
“Dinner is still on.”
He frowned.
“Claire—”
“But first, you’re going to show me every page you have.”
His phone lit up before he could answer.
A photograph filled the screen.
May you like
Ryan and Vanessa, entering a hotel.
In Las Vegas.
