Chapter 4 - THE FOUNDATION OF LIES|
Rachel called me that evening.
I answered because I wanted to hear what she had to say without a screen between us.
“Mara, I think there's been a misunderstanding.”
“About what?”
“About Grant. About Sophie. About the money.”
I sat beside Eli's bed.
“Which part would you like to explain first?”
Rachel sighed.
“Grant told me he and I were helping children who couldn't afford treatment. He said the foundation was created for families like mine.”
“Did you know the foundation paid your rent?”
Silence.
“Did you know it paid your daughter's tuition?”
Another silence.
“Rachel?”
“He said those were part of the assistance package.”
“Did you know emergency blood was transferred for Sophie?”
“He said it was reserved.”
“It wasn't.”
“I didn't know that.”
I believed she might not have known about the blood.
But I no longer believed she knew nothing about the money.
“Rachel, how long have you and Grant been involved?”
Her breathing changed.
“Mara—”
“How long?”
“Four years.”
I closed my eyes.
Four years.
Eli had been one year old.
Four years of canceled dinners, missed birthdays, business trips, and nights when Grant had come home smelling of perfume I didn't wear.
I had suspected something.
I had asked him.
He had called me insecure.
“Did he tell you he was going to leave me?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before Sophie started school.”
I almost laughed.
“He said he would leave after Sophie was settled.”
Rachel didn't answer.
“He said he would leave after the next merger. Then after the next board meeting. Then after the company reached its next milestone.”
Her voice became defensive.
“He said you were staying because of the money.”
“I stayed because I believed my husband loved me.”
“Grant said you were never happy.”
“Grant told you whatever he needed you to believe.”
Rachel began to cry.
“I love him.”
I looked at the hospital room door.
“And I loved him too.”
She went quiet.
“I don't blame Sophie,” I continued. “She is a little girl who deserves medical care and a father who shows up. But you and Grant made choices. Don't ask me to pretend those choices didn't hurt my child.”
Rachel whispered, “He said he would marry me.”
“Then why hasn't he?”
“I don't know.”
“Maybe because he likes having two women believe they're the ones he chose.”
She ended the call.
Holly, who had been listening from the chair near the window, shook her head.
“Did she admit to the payments?”
“She said Grant called them assistance.”
“That isn't a legal defense.”
Holly opened her laptop.
“I've found the foundation's original charter. It was created eleven years ago, shortly after you and Grant incorporated Whitmore Medical Holdings.”
I frowned.
“I don't remember founding it.”
“You did.”
She turned the screen toward me.
My name appeared as the principal founder.
Grant's name was listed beneath mine.
I stared.
“That isn't my signature.”
Holly enlarged the document.
The signature looked almost exactly like mine.
Almost.
“I never signed this.”
“Then someone forged it.”
She scrolled down.
The charter stated that the foundation's original mission was to provide emergency medical assistance to children regardless of family wealth, social status, or personal connection.
A clause prohibited preferential allocation of emergency resources to directors, relatives, or private associates.
I read it twice.
Grant had not merely misused the foundation.
He had violated the very purpose I had created it to serve.
Then Holly opened the payment records.
Rachel Palmer had been listed as a paid consultant.
Her consulting contract had been approved four years earlier.
The signature authorizing it belonged to Grant.
But the second signature was mine.
I leaned closer.
The date was the same week I had given birth to Eli.
I remembered that week.
I had been recovering from an emergency C-section.
Grant had brought paperwork to my hospital room and told me the pages were insurance forms.
Holly looked at me.
“Do you remember signing anything?”
I felt cold.
“Yes.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That it was routine paperwork.”
Holly closed the laptop.
“Mara, I think he used your recovery to steal control of the foundation.”
And then my phone rang.
It was Daniel.
May you like
His first words were:
“Mara, we found the original account. There's enough money missing to bring down the entire company.”
