Chapter 3 - THE BILLIONAIRE COMES HOME
Richard’s private jet landed at Westchester County Airport at 4:17 a.m.
He had been scheduled to continue to Boston.
He canceled everything.
At 5:02, a black SUV stopped outside the Whitfield estate.
Diane Sinclair was asleep.
The night staff were not.
Richard entered through the front doors without warning.
Frank the security guard stood so quickly his chair nearly fell over.
“Mr. Whitfield.”
“Where is Diane?”
“Sir?”
“Wake her up.”
Frank hesitated.
Richard stopped.
“Now.”
Ten minutes later, Diane hurried down the main staircase wearing a cashmere robe beneath a coat.
“Richard.”
He hated when employees used his first name without invitation.
Diane only did it when she wanted to remind everyone how long she had worked for him.
“You’re home early.”
Richard held up Maria’s termination form.
“What is this?”
Diane’s expression barely changed.
“A regrettable situation.”
“What bracelet?”
She blinked.
“The Cartier diamond bracelet from your bedroom safe.”
“I don’t own a Cartier diamond bracelet.”
This time Diane could not hide it.
Her face lost color.
“Of course you do.”
“No.”
“You may have forgotten.”
Richard stared at her.
“I know what’s in my safe.”
Diane recovered quickly.
“You have dozens of valuables.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“You have dozens of records.”
Her jaw tightened.
Richard continued.
“Every item insured through this house is catalogued.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then you know no such bracelet exists.”
Diane folded her arms.
“There must be a documentation error.”
“Show me the insurance record.”
“I’ll retrieve it.”
“Now.”
Diane walked toward her office.
Richard followed.
She sat at her computer.
Her fingers moved too quickly.
Richard noticed.
He noticed everything when he stopped pretending not to.
Finally, Diane opened a document.
“There.”
Richard leaned over.
A Cartier Panthère diamond bracelet.
Appraised at $318,000.
Added to household inventory two months earlier.
He studied it.
Then looked at her.
“Who added this?”
“The administrative system.”
“Who authorized it?”
“You did.”
“No.”
“There’s your signature.”
Richard stared at the digital signature.
It looked perfect.
Too perfect.
Then he smiled.
Diane’s face changed.
“What?”
“You forgot something.”
“What?”
“I stopped using this signature eighteen months ago.”
Silence.
Richard straightened.
“After our legal department discovered someone had copied it onto a vendor contract.”
Diane swallowed.
Richard picked up his phone.
“Frank.”
The guard appeared.
“Yes, sir?”
“Lock the gates.”
Diane stood.
“Richard, that’s unnecessary.”
“Give me your phone.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You can’t confiscate my personal property.”
“You’re right.”
Richard nodded.
“But I can ask you to leave my house.”
She relaxed slightly.
“Then I’ll leave.”
“After the police arrive.”
Her face went white.
Richard looked at Frank.
“Nobody leaves this property.”
Then he turned to Diane.
“And nobody touches a computer.”
Diane said nothing.
Richard walked toward his private office.
There was one thing he wanted before calling police.
The hidden security server.
Years earlier, after his divorce turned ugly, Richard had installed two private cameras no member of the estate staff knew about.
One faced his office.
The other covered the master hallway.
He entered his password.
Opened the archive.
Selected Tuesday morning.
6:40 a.m.
Nothing.
6:45.
Nothing.
6:47.
The hallway appeared.
Maria entered carrying fresh linens.
6:56.
Maria left.
Empty-handed.
Richard kept watching.
7:03.
Someone entered the frame.
Richard leaned closer.
Diane Sinclair.
She looked directly toward the regular hallway camera.
Then she reached into her pocket.
Pulled out a bracelet.
And slipped it beneath Maria’s cleaning cart.
Richard stared at the screen.
But Diane was not alone.
A man followed her out of the bedroom.
Richard recognized him immediately.
His own attorney.
Thomas Vale.
May you like
And the next thing Thomas said made Richard’s blood run cold.
“Once she’s gone, we can finish transferring the accounts.”
