Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN THEY CHOSE TO BLAME
Grace went still when she saw her name.
The email contained bank transfers.
Four payments.
Twenty-five thousand dollars each.
All apparently sent from an account attached to my family office.
Owen spoke first.
“This is why we need an independent review.”
I looked at Grace.
She had turned pale.
“I didn’t know where they came from,” she said.
The board heard her.
Owen leaned forward.
“You received them?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
Grace looked directly at me.
“I thought they were part of the assistance fund.”
My father had created a small hardship fund for long-serving employees.
Grace’s mother had been receiving treatment after a stroke.
Months earlier, I had approved help with uncovered care costs.
“How much did you request?” I asked.
“Eighteen thousand dollars.”
“And these payments?”
“The fund administrator said the approval included ongoing care.
I asked twice.”
“Who was the administrator?”
She looked toward the laptop.
“Mr. Mercer’s office.”
Owen’s expression barely changed.
“That fund is handled by staff.”
Leah ended the discussion.
“We will verify the transfers and the correspondence.
Until then, nobody will draw conclusions from an anonymous email.”
The board suspended the emergency authority pending review.
That was a small victory.
Grace walked into the hall.
I found her later with Leah’s help, sitting beside a vending machine she hadn’t used.
“You should rest,” she said.
“So should you.”
“Your directors think I was being paid to sleep with you.”
“They think what someone wanted them to think.”
She wiped her cheek angrily.
“My mother needed help.
I asked a question.
That’s all I did.”
“Give Leah the emails.”
“I already have.”
She looked ashamed.
I wished I had understood sooner how much shame people could attach to needing money.
Back in my room, Leah received the first account records.
The payments were real.
The descriptions had been changed.
What Grace had seen as employee assistance now appeared in the company records as private consulting fees.
Someone had built a trail that could make us look involved.
Then the corporate secretary called.
The company’s pending buyer had invoked an expedited review clause.
A board vote would take place in forty-eight hours.
“If it passes,” Leah said, “the disputed asset transfer could close before we finish examining the records.”
“What assets?”
She read the schedule.
Among the properties, accounts, and investments was an archive facility I had barely thought about since my father’s death.
May you like
Leah looked up.
“Why would a buyer insist on acquiring your father’s old records?”
