Chapter 3: The Secret Inside the Folder
Damon read the document again.
The foyer had become so quiet that he could hear the ticking clock in the adjoining sitting room.
His father stood beside the desk, one hand resting on its edge. Serena remained near the staircase, clutching her handbag against her stomach.
“What does this mean?”” Damon asked.
Calvin drew a slow breath.
“It means I discovered something concerning about the company's finances.””
Serena laughed nervously.
“That's ridiculous. This has nothing to do with me.””
Damon didn't look at her.
“Dad, explain.””
Calvin adjusted his glasses.
“Three weeks ago, I asked our accountant to review several transactions involving the private investment account. There were payments I couldn't reconcile. At first, I thought it was a bookkeeping error.””
“What payments?””
“Transfers from a subsidiary account. Small amounts at first. Then larger ones.””
Damon flipped through the statements.
The amounts ranged from a few thousand dollars to nearly a hundred thousand. They had been transferred over several months to a consulting company he didn't recognize.
He frowned.
“Who owns this company?””
Calvin pointed to the last page.
“That's what I was trying to establish.””
Damon read the name.
Rosebridge Advisory Group.
He had never heard of it.
He turned another page and found a list of transactions. Several carried the same authorization code.
His stomach tightened.
He recognized that code.
It belonged to a set of financial permissions he had approved during the previous year, when he had delegated certain administrative tasks to members of his executive team.
He looked at Calvin.
“Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?””
“I wanted evidence before I made an accusation. I know how easily a misunderstanding can ruin a person's reputation.””
The words struck Damon with uncomfortable force.
His father had wanted evidence.
Damon had wanted someone to blame.
He lowered his eyes to the papers.
“Does this have something to do with Serena?””
Calvin hesitated.
“I don't know yet. Her name appears in a property agreement connected to one of the accounts. That doesn't prove she did anything wrong.””
Serena immediately stepped forward.
“Exactly! My name appears on lots of documents because I'm your wife. You signed plenty of things for me.””
Damon looked at her.
“I didn't sign this.””
“You might have forgotten.””
“I don't forget signing documents that transfer company assets.””
“You were busy.””
“Then why are you so certain?””
Serena's mouth tightened.
“Because I live with you, Damon. I know how you work.””
Calvin carefully pulled one page from the folder.
“This document was prepared last month. It appears to authorize the transfer of a property owned by the company to a private entity. The signature is supposed to be yours.””
Damon took the page.
At first glance, it looked convincing.
His name appeared at the bottom, written in a smooth black signature.
But the date was wrong.
He had been overseas on the day the document was supposedly signed. His passport and flight records could prove it.
“Who prepared this?”” he asked.
“The law firm listed on the last page says they received instructions electronically,” Calvin replied.
“They're checking their records.””
Serena crossed her arms.
“So now we're accusing people of fraud because Dad found a few accounting errors?””
Calvin looked at her sadly.
“No one has accused you of anything.””
“Not yet.””
Damon turned toward his wife.
“Why did you say that?””
“Because I know how this family works. Someone finds a problem, and suddenly everyone wants a scapegoat.””
“You just told me my father attacked you.””
Her face hardened.
“And I apologized for how things looked.””
“You haven't apologized to him.””
Serena stared at Calvin.
Then she let out a disbelieving laugh.
“You want me to apologize to the man who supposedly ruined my afternoon?””
Damon's expression became cold.
“Supposedly?””
She went silent.
He stepped closer.
“You just called your own accusation something that supposedly happened.””
“I misspoke.””
“No. You were careless because you thought you had already won.””
Serena's eyes flashed.
“Don't talk to me like that.””
“Then stop giving me reasons to.””
Calvin raised a hand.
“Damon, wait.””
His son turned.
“Dad, she lied to me. She made me hit you. And now her name is connected to documents that may involve missing money. How much more am I supposed to ignore?””
“Nothing,” Calvin said.
“But don't make the same mistake twice. We need facts.””
Damon looked down at the folder.
He hated that his father was right.
Even now, Calvin was trying to keep him from acting on anger.
Even after the slap.
Even after the humiliation.
Serena, meanwhile, was watching the front door.
Damon noticed.
“Where are you going?””
“I'm leaving.””
“Why?””
“Because I won't stand here while you and your father treat me like a criminal.””
“No one has called you a criminal.””
“You're looking at me like one!””
“Then help me understand what's happening.””
“I don't owe you an interrogation!””
She turned toward the staircase.
Damon reached for the folder and closed it.
“Fine. You can leave if you want. But don't touch anything in this room.””
Serena stopped.
“What does that mean?””
“It means I'm preserving these documents until we know what's going on.””
She stared at him.
For a moment, her face was entirely blank.
Then she smiled bitterly.
“You really have changed.””
Damon gave a small, exhausted shake of his head.
“No, Serena. I think I'm finally seeing things clearly.””
She spun around and marched toward the staircase.
Her heels struck the marble with sharp, angry clicks.
At the first step, she stopped and looked back.
“You'll regret this.””
Damon didn't answer.
Serena climbed the stairs and disappeared around the landing.
A bedroom door slammed upstairs.
Margaret exhaled shakily.
“Mr. Hayes,” she said, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't get involved in family matters, but there's something you ought to know.””
Damon looked at her.
“What is it?””
Margaret glanced toward the staircase to make sure Serena was gone.
Then she lowered her voice.
“About twenty minutes before Mrs. Hayes screamed, I saw her come through the kitchen carrying a small envelope. She asked me whether your father was alone in the foyer.””
Calvin frowned.
“Why didn't you tell us that earlier?””
“I didn't know what it meant. Then I heard the screaming, and I was afraid to say anything.””
Damon's pulse quickened.
“Did you see what was inside the envelope?””
“No, sir. But she placed it in her handbag when she came back through the hallway.””
Damon looked toward the staircase.
“Thank you, Margaret.””
The housekeeper nodded and retreated into the kitchen.
Calvin lowered himself into his chair again.
For the first time that afternoon, his shoulders seemed to sag with exhaustion.
Damon knelt beside him.
“Dad, let me see your cheek.””
“It's fine.””
“Please.””
Calvin turned his face slightly.
The red mark had darkened. A faint swelling had begun beneath his cheekbone.
Damon looked away, unable to bear it.
“I don't know how to make this right.””
Calvin studied his son.
“You can't undo what happened.””
“I know.””
“But you can decide what kind of man you want to be after it.””
Damon swallowed.
“I should have trusted you.””
“You should have listened to both of us before deciding who was telling the truth.””
Damon nodded.
Then he looked at the folder.
“I'm going to call our attorney. We'll have the documents examined, and I'll contact the company's auditors first thing tomorrow.””
Calvin nodded.
“Good.””
“And I'm going to find out who Rosebridge Advisory Group belongs to.””
“Carefully,” Calvin warned.
“If someone has been moving money, they may already know we've noticed.””
Damon picked up his phone.
Before he could dial, another thought stopped him.
“Dad, you said you were going to discuss this with me tomorrow. Why did you bring the documents downstairs today?””
Calvin glanced toward the folder.
“Because I found something else this morning.””
He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and removed a thin, cream-colored envelope.
Unlike the other documents, this one bore no company letterhead.
Calvin held it for a moment before handing it to his son.
“I didn't want to believe it,” he said.
“I thought there might be an innocent explanation.””
Damon opened the envelope.
Inside was a printed email, a copy of a bank transfer, and a photograph.
The email had been sent from an account bearing Serena's name to an address belonging to Rosebridge Advisory Group.
Its subject line was simple.
*Final arrangements.*
Damon read the first few lines.
His fingers began to tremble.
The email discussed a transfer scheduled for the following week. It mentioned a property, a financial authorization, and a person who needed to be kept unaware until the transaction was complete.
Then Damon reached the final paragraph.
Once the paperwork is signed, he won't be able to stop us. Keep him distracted until everything is finalized.
Damon stared at the sentence.
“Who is 'he'?””
Calvin didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he slid the photograph across the desk.
It showed Serena standing outside a downtown hotel, her hand resting on the arm of a man Damon had never seen before.
The man was holding the same cream-colored envelope Margaret had described.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written a date and a short message.
*Two days before the first transfer.*
Damon looked up.
“Dad, who took this?””
“An investigator I hired after the accountant found the first discrepancy.””
“You hired an investigator?””
“I needed to know whether the money was being moved by someone inside the company.””
Damon looked back at the photograph.
Serena was smiling at the man.
Not the careful smile she wore at charity dinners.
Not the polished smile she used when photographers approached.
This smile was relaxed and intimate.
A smile Damon hadn't seen directed at him in months.
He felt something inside him turn cold.
“Who is this man?””
Calvin leaned forward.
“That's what I was hoping to find out.””
Damon examined the photograph more closely.
The man wore a dark suit and a silver watch. His face was partially turned away from the camera, but something about him seemed familiar.
Then Damon noticed the watch.
A distinctive black face. A narrow silver band.
He had seen it before.
Not in a magazine.
Not at a business meeting.
In his own house.
He looked toward the staircase again.
“Dad,” he whispered, “I think I've met him.””
Calvin's expression tightened.
“Where?””
Damon couldn't answer.
Because suddenly he remembered the man standing in his kitchen three months earlier, laughing with Serena while Damon was on a conference call.
She had introduced him as an old friend.
Someone who had helped her organize a charity event.
Damon had shaken his hand without a second thought.
He had even thanked him for looking after his wife while Damon traveled for work.
Now he stared at the photograph, trying to reconcile the memory with the evidence in front of him.
His phone vibrated.
An incoming message appeared from an unknown number.
*Stop looking into Rosebridge. You have no idea what your wife has already arranged.*
Damon read it twice.
Then another message arrived.
*Ask Serena what happens to the company if you die before Friday.*
Damon's blood ran cold.
He looked at his father.
Calvin had read the message over his shoulder.
Neither man spoke.
Upstairs, a floorboard creaked.
Then came the sound of Serena's bedroom door opening.
Damon quickly turned his phone facedown.
Footsteps approached the staircase.
Serena appeared on the landing, her royal-pink gown still torn, her eyes dry now, her expression composed.
She descended slowly, one hand gliding along the polished banister.
“Damon,” she said, her voice suddenly sweet, “I think we need to talk privately.””
He watched her reach the bottom step.
For the first time in their marriage, he didn't see the woman he had promised to protect.
He saw someone who might have been planning his destruction while sleeping beside him.
Serena stopped in front of him and held out her hand.
“Come upstairs with me.””
Damon glanced at Calvin.
His father gave the smallest shake of his head.
Not yet.
Not without proof.
Damon looked back at his wife.
“What happens on Friday?”” he asked.
Serena's smile disappeared.
For one terrible second, the entire foyer seemed to hold its breath.
May you like
Then she looked at the phone on the desk.
And whispered, “Who told you about Friday?””
