Chapter 3: The Secret They Found
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
My father repeated my name.
“Maya?””
“I’m here.””
“You need to come home.””
“I will.””
“Today.””
I stared at the glass wall of my office.
“Dad, what exactly did they find?””
“Not enough.””
“What does that mean?””
“It means they know you're Alexander Bennett's daughter.””
My stomach tightened.
“But they don't know everything?””
“Not yet.””
I lowered my voice.
“Do they know about the trust?””
“No.””
“The company?””
“Not directly.””
“Then what do they think?””
“They think you are an employee.””
I almost laughed.
After eleven months of hiding my identity, the Whitmores had somehow discovered only the part I had been willing to show the world.
My father continued.
“They also believe Ryan is in a relationship with someone who has access to Bennett Holdings.””
“Access?””
“They don't know you're the controlling shareholder of Northstar Capital.””
I closed my eyes.
Northstar Capital was the company I had built quietly over the previous three years.
It was technically a subsidiary of Bennett Holdings.
But publicly, it operated independently.
That was where I worked every day.
Not because I needed a paycheck.
Because I wanted to build something that belonged to me.
My father had encouraged it.
“You wanted to know if you could succeed without my name,” he'd once told me.
“I did.””
“And?””
“I haven't decided yet.””
He'd laughed.
Now none of it felt funny.
“Dad,” I said, “why would the Whitmores want Northstar?””
“I don't know.””
“You do.””
Silence.
“Dad.””
He sighed.
“They've been trying to acquire it for six months.””
My eyes widened.
“Six months?””
“Yes.””
“And you never told me?””
“You were distracted.””
“By Ryan?””
“By life.””
I leaned against my desk.
“What do they want with it?””
“We don't know.””
“Who is handling the negotiations?””
“Charles Whitmore.””
My pulse quickened.
Ryan's father.
The man who had sat at the Thanksgiving table and watched his wife humiliate me.
“Dad.””
“Yes?””
“I need to ask you something.””
“Ask.””
“Did you know Ryan was dating me?””
Another pause.
“No.””
“Are you sure?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“Because if I had known, I would have warned you.””
I looked at the clock.
There was something about his answer that bothered me.
Not the words.
The certainty.
My father continued.
“Maya, listen to me carefully.””
“I am.””
“Do not tell Ryan about Northstar yet.””
“Why?””
“Because we don't know whether he is involved.””
I stiffened.
“You think he is?””
“I think his family has been unusually aggressive.””
“That doesn't mean Ryan knows.””
“I didn't say it did.””
“But you suspect him.””
“I suspect everyone connected to the acquisition.””
I didn't respond.
My father softened his voice.
“You love him.””
It wasn't a question.
“Yes.””
“Then don't make excuses for him.””
I looked toward the door Ryan had walked through earlier.
“I won't.””
“Come home.””
“I'll be there.””
I hung up.
Claire was still standing outside my office.
She had heard enough to know something serious was happening.
She closed the door.
“Are you okay?””
I smiled faintly.
“No.””
She sat down.
“What are you going to do?””
I looked at the tablet on my desk.
At the photo of me leaving the Whitmore mansion.
“I'm going to find out who Ryan really is.””
That afternoon, I went to Bennett Holdings.
The headquarters occupied forty floors of a glass tower overlooking the Chicago River.
I entered through the private entrance.
The receptionist stood immediately.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Bennett.””
I nodded.
“Good afternoon.””
No one here called me Maya.
Not in public.
Not in the building.
Here, I was Executive Director Maya Bennett.
The elevator took me to the thirty-eighth floor.
My father was waiting in the conference room.
He was sixty-one, silver-haired, impeccably dressed, and terrifying when he was quiet.
He slid a folder across the table.
“Open it.””
I did.
The first page contained Northstar Capital's financial structure.
The second contained acquisition proposals from Whitmore Industries.
The third contained something I hadn't expected.
A list of names.
I read the first.
*Ryan Whitmore.*
My breath caught.
“Why is his name here?””
My father didn't answer.
I turned the page.
There were dates.
Meetings.
Emails.
Financial transfers.
Ryan's name appeared beside three separate internal discussions.
I looked up.
“Dad.””
“I told you not to make excuses for him.””
“What am I looking at?””
“Ryan has been working with his father.””
“On Northstar?””
“Yes.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
“He attended two meetings with our competitors.””
“That doesn't mean—”
“It means exactly what you think it means.””
I stood.
“You're wrong.””
My father remained seated.
“Maya.””
“He wouldn't do that.””
“Then ask him.””
I stared at the folder.
There were copies of emails.
I read one.
*Ryan: She has no idea what the company is worth.*
My hands went numb.
Another:
*Charles: Does she have access to Bennett Holdings?*
Ryan's response:
*Ryan: I don't think so. She keeps everything separate.*
I couldn't breathe.
My father watched me carefully.
“There are more.””
I closed the folder.
“No.””
“Maya.””
“I need to hear him say it.””
“Why?””
“Because if I don't, I'll spend the rest of my life wondering whether we misunderstood something.””
My father nodded.
“That is why I told you to ask him.””
I left the building before sunset.
Ryan was waiting outside my apartment.
He stepped toward me.
“Maya.””
I stopped.
“How long have you been working with your father on Northstar Capital?””
His face went blank.
I watched the exact moment he realized.
He knew.
He knew what I was talking about.
“Maya…”
“How long?””
“I can explain.””
“Six months?””
He said nothing.
“Five?””
“Maya, please.””
“Was it before we met?””
“No.””
“After?””
He looked down.
“Yes.””
My chest hurt.
“You investigated my company.””
“I was trying to understand your work.””
“You told your father I had no idea what the company was worth.””
His eyes widened.
“Where did you hear that?””
“That isn't the point.””
“I didn't mean it like that.””
“How did you mean it?””
He stepped closer.
“I wanted to help my family.””
“By using me?””
“No.””
“Then what?””
He rubbed his face.
“My father was desperate.””
“For what?””
“Debt.””
I stared at him.
“What debt?””
“Whitmore Industries is in trouble.””
I said nothing.
Ryan continued.
“They need Northstar.””
“Why?””
“To survive.””
“And you agreed to help them take it?””
“I never agreed to anything.””
“You attended meetings.””
“Yes.””
“You discussed me.””
“I didn't know who you were.””
I almost laughed.
“You knew exactly who I was.””
“No.””
His voice cracked.
“Not then.””
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?””
He stepped closer.
“When I met you, I thought you were Maya Bennett from the investment office.””
“I am.””
“No.””
He shook his head.
“You're Alexander Bennett's daughter.””
My heart sank.
He knew.
Ryan looked at me with something between fear and desperation.
“I found out three weeks ago.””
I stared at him.
“Three weeks?””
“Yes.””
“And you didn't tell me.””
“I was trying to figure out what to do.””
“What did you do?””
“Nothing.””
“Nothing?””
“I stopped talking to my father about the acquisition.””
I searched his face.
“After you found out who I was?””
“Yes.””
“Not before.””
He looked away.
I felt something inside me break.
“You were testing me.””
“No.””
“You were using me.””
“No.””
“You were dating the woman you thought couldn't help your family, while secretly trying to get close to her company.””
“Maya, that's not what happened.””
“Then tell me what happened.””
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
I saw the name.
*Dad.*
Ryan answered.
“Dad, I'm with Maya.””
His father's voice came through.
“What?””
Ryan pulled the phone away.
“I said I'm with Maya.””
A long silence.
Then Charles said something.
Ryan's expression changed.
He looked at me.
“Dad, don't.””
Another pause.
Ryan slowly lowered the phone.
“What did he say?”” I asked.
He didn't answer.
“Ryan.””
He looked at me.
“He said if I don't convince you to sell Northstar…”
His voice broke.
“He'll destroy Bennett Holdings.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
Ryan's phone rang again.
This time, a notification appeared on the screen.
A bank transfer.
Millions of dollars.
From an account belonging to Whitmore Industries.
To an account bearing Ryan's name.
I looked at him.
He went pale.
“That isn't mine.””
I took one step backward.
“Then whose money is it?””
Ryan stared at the screen.
His phone slipped from his hand.
And before either of us could move, another message appeared.
*TRANSFER COMPLETE.*
May you like
Then a second message arrived.
*YOU HAVE 48 HOURS TO DELIVER MAYA BENNETT.*
