Chapter 2 - The Man Beside the Elevator
Caroline stopped walking.
The stranger was perhaps forty-five, tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a charcoal suit without a tie. He looked entirely wrong for the gala.
Everyone upstairs was dressed to be photographed.
This man was dressed to disappear.
“Who are you?”
“Ethan Cross.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“It shouldn’t.”
Caroline pressed the elevator button.
Ethan glanced toward the ballroom.
“If you leave tonight without speaking to me, Grant will know exactly how much time he has.”
Caroline turned.
“Grant already knows I found something.”
“He doesn’t know what.”
“And you do?”
“Some of it.”
The elevator doors opened.
Caroline stepped inside.
Ethan followed.
She immediately held the doors.
“I didn’t invite you.”
“No.”
“Then get out.”
Instead, Ethan removed a business card.
Federal financial-crimes consultant.
Former prosecutor.
Caroline studied it.
“You’re law enforcement?”
“Not anymore.”
“Then why are you following my husband?”
“I’m following someone who happens to be using him.”
That was different.
Caroline released the doors.
They closed.
“Which floor?” Ethan asked.
“Medical suite.”
He pressed four.
Caroline folded her arms.
Pain shot through her shoulder.
Ethan noticed.
“You should have that examined.”
“I’m planning to.”
“You always this calm?”
“No.”
The answer surprised him.
Caroline looked at her reflection in the mirrored wall.
Wet hair.
Mascara slightly smudged.
Silver gown dripping onto expensive carpet.
She did not look powerful.
Perhaps that was useful.
“I’m furious,” she said. “I simply decided months ago that anger would not make decisions for me.”
Ethan nodded slowly.
“Good rule.”
“Who is using Grant?”
“Darius Cole.”
Caroline knew the name.
Everyone in Boston finance knew it.
Cole ran Marrowgate Capital, a private investment firm famous for buying distressed companies and stripping them down to profitable pieces.
“What does he have to do with my foundation?”
“Possibly everything.”
The elevator opened.
A nurse approached immediately.
“Mrs. Vale?”
Caroline nodded.
“I’m Dr. Lena Morris. We were told you had a fall.”
“I was pushed into a pool.”
Ethan almost smiled.
Caroline looked at him.
“Wait outside.”
He obeyed.
Thirty minutes later, Caroline emerged wearing a hotel robe over her damp gown. Her shoulder was badly bruised but not fractured.
Ethan sat alone in the waiting area.
He stood.
“You stayed.”
“You still have the drive?”
Caroline froze.
“How do you know about the drive?”
“I saw you check the waterproof pocket after you got out of the pool.”
“You watch closely.”
“That used to be my job.”
Caroline sat opposite him.
“Start talking.”
Ethan did.
For almost a year, his firm had been tracing suspicious transfers connected to Marrowgate Capital.
Shell companies.
Fake consulting contracts.
Charitable organizations used as temporary holding points.
Grant’s name surfaced three months earlier.
Caroline listened without interrupting.
“How much?”
“We can prove roughly three million dollars moved through entities connected to Grant.”
Her stomach tightened.
Her auditors had identified $812,000.
“Three million?”
“At least.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
She hated the question.
Not because he was insulting her.
Because he might be right.
“How does my foundation fit?”
“We believe some money moved through projects funded jointly by your foundation and Vale Development.”
Caroline shook her head.
“My signature is required for transfers over two hundred thousand.”
“We know.”
The room went silent.
Caroline understood.
“You think my signature was forged.”
“I know it was.”
He removed a thin folder.
Inside was a copy of an authorization letter.
At the bottom sat Caroline’s signature.
Perfect at first glance.
Wrong after three seconds.
Caroline always crossed the final stroke of the V in Vale.
This signature did not.
“When?”
“Seven months ago.”
She stared at the document.
Grant had kissed her goodbye that morning.
She remembered because he had complained she seemed distracted.
She had been arranging his surprise birthday dinner.
“How did you get this?”
“Someone inside Grant’s company sent it.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you yet.”
“That isn’t good enough.”
“It has to be.”
Caroline closed the folder.
“Then our conversation is over.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“Mrs. Vale, your divorce could make Grant desperate.”
“He’s already desperate.”
“You haven’t seen desperate yet.”
Caroline stood.
“My attorney knows what I have.”
“Does your attorney know your husband has been purchasing property in countries without straightforward asset-recovery agreements?”
She stopped.
“No.”
“Does your attorney know he moved nearly four hundred thousand dollars yesterday?”
“No.”
“Does your attorney know someone accessed your foundation credentials from Grant’s office three hours ago?”
Caroline turned slowly.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“I changed the credentials forty-eight hours ago.”
Ethan’s expression hardened.
“Then you have a bigger problem.”
Caroline immediately called her foundation’s technology director.
“Caroline?”
“Daniel, I need you to disable every remote access point to the foundation’s financial system.”
A pause.
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain later.”
She hung up.
Ethan watched her.
“You didn’t tell him why.”
“The fewer people who know, the fewer people who can warn Grant.”
“You learn quickly.”
“No. I learned slowly. That’s why I’m here.”
Her phone rang.
Grant.
Caroline declined it.
Again.
Declined.
A text appeared.
WE NEED TO TALK BEFORE YOU DO SOMETHING STUPID.
Caroline stared at the words.
Then another.
SLOANE SAYS YOU THREATENED HER.
Caroline laughed softly.
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“They’ve already started.”
“Started what?”
“Building the story.”
Caroline showed him.
Ethan’s expression changed.
“This matches something our source reported.”
“What?”
“Grant was asking his attorney how misconduct during divorce proceedings could influence control of a family trust.”
Caroline felt suddenly cold again.
Not pool-water cold.
Something deeper.
“He wanted me to look unstable.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We think he needs you removed as trustee.”
“So he can control the foundation?”
“Maybe.”
“Grant cannot become trustee.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Ethan hesitated.
Caroline saw it.
“Who?”
“Your younger brother.”
She laughed immediately.
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because Nathan has been in Singapore for almost a year.”
“He returned to Boston yesterday.”
Caroline’s smile vanished.
Ethan continued.
“And tonight, while you were being pushed into that pool, Nathan Vale was meeting with Darius Cole.”
Caroline stood absolutely still.
Her brother.
Her husband.
Her foundation.
Her money.
Her signature.
And suddenly the affair seemed almost insignificant.
Caroline’s phone vibrated again.
This time the message came from Nathan.
Hey, sis. Heard something happened tonight. Call me.
Caroline read it twice.
Then Ethan’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His expression hardened.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Are police there?”
Caroline stepped closer.
Ethan ended the call.
“What happened?”
He looked at her.
“Our source inside Grant’s company was supposed to meet me tonight.”
“And?”
“She never arrived.”
Caroline’s pulse quickened.
“Who is she?”
Ethan finally answered.
“Grant’s assistant.”
Caroline felt the floor shift beneath her.
The same assistant who had warned her about Grant.
“What happened to her?”
“Her car was found abandoned twenty minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“Near the harbor.”
Caroline grabbed her coat.
Ethan stood.
“Where are you going?”
“To find out what my husband is really involved in.”
“Caroline—”
She turned.
“You told me he wasn’t working alone.”
“Yes.”
“Then stop treating me like the wife you need to protect from ugly information.”
Ethan held her gaze.
After several seconds, he nodded.
“All right.”
They walked toward the elevator.
As the doors closed, Caroline looked once more at Grant’s message.
WE NEED TO TALK.
For nine months, Caroline had wanted answers.
May you like
Now she was beginning to understand that finding them might be much more dangerous than losing her marriage.
And somewhere in Boston, the only woman who knew how deep Grant’s secrets went had disappeared.
