Chapter 9 - THE ANSWER SHE RECEIVED
Maya opened her email with stiff fingers.
Six months earlier, she had written to the address listed in the employee handbook.
Mr. Blackwood,
I’m sorry to bother you. Several of us are missing overtime pay. Mrs. Davenport says the matter is closed. Could someone please review the attached hours?
There were spreadsheets attached.
Names. Dates. Totals.
The reply arrived two days later.
Household compensation is managed by Mrs. Davenport. Further attempts to bypass established procedures may affect your continued employment.
The signature read:
ETHAN BLACKWOOD
OFFICE OF THE OWNER
“I thought you’d at least ask someone to check,” Maya said.
Ethan read it again.
“I didn’t write this.”
“But it came from your office.”
“Yes.”
He could have stopped there.
He could have talked about assistants, filters, permissions.
Instead, he said, “That address belonged to a system I approved. I never checked who was answering it.”
Maya looked away.
Olivia leaned forward.
“Margaret had access to the household inbox. We’ll get the logs.”
“That will explain the email,” Maya said. “It won’t explain why nobody noticed.”
No one answered.
Because she was right.
The next morning, investigators took statements in separate rooms. Margaret arrived with an attorney. Grant did not arrive at all.
A digital-forensics specialist preserved the estate’s computers and access logs.
By noon, the first connection appeared.
The reply to Maya had been sent from the staff-office terminal using delegated access.
Margaret’s terminal.
But another document arrived before Ethan could feel relief.
It was a signed household budget proposal from the previous year.
Reduce permanent support positions. Consolidate shift coverage. Delegate all staffing exceptions to household management.
At the bottom was Ethan’s real signature.
He remembered signing it.
He had been leaving for Singapore. The folder contained twenty other approvals. Margaret said the staffing changes would improve efficiency.
He asked whether service would suffer.
He never asked whether people would.
Maya found him staring at the page.
“This one yours?”
“Yes.”
She nodded slowly.
“Then don’t tell the police this started Tuesday.”
“I won’t.”
Outside, someone rang the front bell.
Marcus answered.
A courier handed him an envelope marked for Maya.
Inside was a photograph of her younger brother leaving his apartment.
May you like
On the back, someone had written:
GO HOME BEFORE THIS BECOMES HIS PROBLEM.
