Chapter 8 - The Secret Graham Thought Would End Us
Graham didn't deny it.
That was worse.
“What happened in Zurich?” I asked again.
He sat across from me.
“In 2018, I found evidence suggesting Miles was moving money.”
“You knew?”
“Not what I know now.”
“But you suspected him.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you investigate?”
“I did.”
“And?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Preston gave me evidence connecting the transfers to my younger brother.”
I had heard about Nathan Reed.
He died five years ago in a skiing accident.
“What evidence?”
“Bank accounts. Emails. Authorization codes.”
“Were they real?”
“I don't know.”
My voice sharpened.
“You don't know?”
“Nathan had addiction problems. Gambling debts. He had stolen from the family before.”
“So you believed him capable of it.”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“I confronted him.”
Graham's eyes became distant.
“He denied everything. We fought. I told him if he didn't leave Reed Global voluntarily, I would go to the board.”
“What happened?”
“He resigned.”
“And then?”
“Six months later, he died.”
Silence swallowed the room.
“I've spent eight years wondering whether I drove my brother away because I believed another lie.”
I finally understood why Graham had reacted so strongly to his father's case.
Thomas.
Nathan.
Everyone Graham loved seemed to become collateral damage in Reed Global's wars.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because there was nothing useful to tell.”
“That's not true.”
“You already had enough reasons not to trust my family.”
“This isn't about your family.”
I pointed at him.
“This is about you deciding what I'm allowed to know.”
His jaw tightened.
“Maybe I didn't want you looking at me differently.”
There it was.
Not corporate strategy.
Fear.
“Do you think I expect you to be perfect?”
“No.”
“You act like it.”
Graham looked down.
I sat beside him.
“Were you cruel to Nathan?”
“Yes.”
“Did you knowingly frame him?”
“No.”
“Did you want him dead?”
His head snapped toward me.
“Never.”
“Then stop carrying Preston's crimes like they're yours.”
Graham stared at me.
I took his hand.
“We find out what happened.”
The email address belonged to an abandoned warehouse near the Chicago River.
I did not go alone.
Obviously.
Marcus nearly had a coronary when I suggested even going at all.
The FBI coordinated surveillance.
Graham remained in the vehicle with me until Ben gave the signal.
Inside the warehouse, we found Miles Voss.
Alive.
Terrified.
And holding a gun.
Ben and two agents entered with weapons drawn.
Miles immediately put his gun down.
“I wasn't going to shoot anyone.”
“Then why have it?” Ben asked.
“Because Preston's trying to kill me.”
Miles looked at Graham.
“You should have listened to your father.”
Graham's face hardened.
“You framed him.”
Miles began crying.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
Like a man whose entire life had finally collapsed on top of him.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Preston had me.”
“Explain.”
Miles revealed everything.
Preston had discovered him embezzling small amounts from a regional project when Miles was twenty-nine.
Instead of reporting him, Preston recruited him.
Together they expanded the scheme.
When Thomas discovered irregularities, Preston shifted the entire trail onto Thomas.
Eleanor learned enough to become frightened.
Nathan later discovered more.
Preston framed him too.
“And Zurich?” Graham asked.
Miles looked away.
“The files Preston showed you were fake.”
Graham closed his eyes.
My heart broke for him.
“Nathan was innocent?”
“Of that? Yes.”
Graham turned away.
I reached for him.
He stepped aside.
Not rejecting me.
Trying to stand upright.
Miles continued.
“Your brother didn't resign because he was ashamed.”
Graham slowly turned.
“Why?”
“He was investigating.”
The room went silent.
“Nathan contacted the Justice Department. He was gathering evidence.”
“What happened to him?”
Miles began shaking.
“I don't know.”
Graham walked toward him.
“What happened to my brother?”
“I swear, I don't know!”
“His death was ruled an accident.”
“I wasn't there.”
“Was Preston?”
Miles said nothing.
That silence answered enough.
Ben intervened before Graham reached him.
“Graham.”
He stopped.
Miles agreed to cooperate fully in exchange for consideration from prosecutors.
He had recordings.
Account passwords.
Backup files.
And one recording Preston never knew existed.
We listened inside the warehouse.
Preston's voice was unmistakable.
“If Graham gets married before the trust date, the shares stay with him.”
Miles asked, “Then what?”
“Then we destroy the wife.”
My stomach tightened.
“Scandal. Money. Fear. I don't care how. Make her leave him. If the marriage collapses quickly enough, we'll challenge the trust under fraudulent inducement.”
Another voice asked about Avery.
Me.
Preston laughed.
“She's an employee from Wisconsin. How difficult can she be?”
I looked at Graham.
He actually smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're enjoying this.”
“A little.”
We had him.
Not everything.
Nathan's death required another investigation.
But financially, criminally, professionally—
we had Preston.
The FBI planned arrests for the following morning.
We returned to the penthouse shortly before dawn.
Exactly eleven days after I had woken in Las Vegas.
I stood at the same kind of window, watching another sunrise.
Graham came behind me.
“It ends tomorrow.”
“The investigation doesn't.”
“No.”
“The shareholder fight doesn't.”
“No.”
“The media nightmare definitely doesn't.”
“No.”
I turned.
“But Preston loses.”
“Yes.”
We stood inches apart.
“What happens to us after that?”
Graham's expression became guarded.
“The thirty-day agreement ends in nineteen days.”
“I know.”
“The annulment papers are still available.”
“I know that too.”
He looked at my wedding ring.
“I won't ask you to stay because you saved my company.”
“Good.”
“I won't ask because I'm grateful.”
“Also good.”
“I won't ask because I need you.”
I swallowed.
“What will you ask?”
His eyes lifted to mine.
Before he could answer, every light in the penthouse went out.
The security system died.
Marcus shouted from the hallway.
Then glass shattered downstairs.
Graham grabbed me.
“Bedroom. Now.”
A gunshot echoed somewhere below.
May you like
For the first time, Preston wasn't trying to frighten us.
He was trying to make sure we never reached tomorrow.
