Chapter 6 - The Billionaire’s Lie
Julian had the replacement sewing box examined.
Mara resented needing him.
She resented even more that he was useful.
A private forensic technician found no electronics or hidden compartments.
But beneath one corner of the felt lining were traces of industrial adhesive.
“Something used to be attached here,” Julian said.
Mara stared at the empty space.
“Tracker?”
“Maybe.”
“Recording device?”
“Possibly.”
“Which means someone could have known when I opened it.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“Or where you kept it.”
Mara looked at him.
“And the break-in happened hours after I found the safe-deposit documents.”
Neither needed to finish the thought.
Someone had been monitoring her.
Julian’s office occupied the forty-third floor of Mercer Tower.
Mara hated the view.
It made New York look clean.
From that height, nobody saw trash bags splitting on sidewalks or housekeepers waiting forty minutes for night buses.
Julian noticed her staring.
“You don’t like it.”
“I don’t trust buildings where rich people can’t hear traffic.”
He almost smiled.
Then Peter Voss entered.
Mercer Capital’s general counsel was sixty, silver-haired and calm.
He looked at Mara as though she were an unexpected line item.
“Ms. Ellis.”
“Mr. Voss.”
Julian placed Rosa’s certified letter on the table.
“Why did you sign for this and fail to include it in acquisition diligence?”
Peter read it without apparent surprise.
“I receive enormous volumes of correspondence.”
“This was certified legal notice regarding title.”
“It may have been routed incorrectly.”
“It has your signature.”
“Electronic receiving signatures are often attached by staff.”
Julian’s eyes hardened.
“Then show me the routing record.”
Peter glanced toward Mara.
“Perhaps this discussion should remain privileged.”
Julian understood the insult.
“She stays.”
Peter’s mouth tightened.
“The Whitmore transaction is commercially sensitive.”
“So is fraud.”
“Fraud has not been established.”
Mara spoke.
“My signature was forged.”
Peter turned to her.
“So you claim.”
Julian’s voice dropped.
“Careful.”
Peter looked at him.
“I am protecting the firm.”
“No. You’re questioning the victim before examining our files.”
The temperature in the room seemed to fall.
Peter stood.
“I’ll have compliance prepare an archive.”
“Original server image.”
“That is excessive.”
“Then I’ll have outside counsel obtain it.”
Peter’s eyes flickered.
There.
Mara saw it.
Fear.
When he left, Mara turned to Julian.
“He knows.”
“I think he knows enough to be afraid.”
“Just like Bianca.”
Julian stared at the closed door.
“Different fear.”
“You sound very certain.”
“I’ve known Peter fifteen years.”
“Bianca probably said the same thing about Grant.”
That hit.
Julian walked toward the window.
“I deserved that.”
Mara sat.
For the first time, she noticed a framed photograph on his shelf.
Julian with an older man.
His father.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were that night?”
He looked at the photograph.
“Because you didn’t recognize me.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It was a relief.”
Mara waited.
“At charity events, people approach me knowing what I’m worth before they know whether I’m interesting.”
“And you liked pretending to be ordinary?”
“Yes.”
“While I told you I cleaned rooms upstairs.”
His face tightened.
“I should have told you.”
“You let me think we were equals for one night.”
“We were.”
“No. We were two people behaving as if consequences had the same price.”
Julian looked at her.
“What consequence do you think I’m avoiding?”
She placed a hand over her stomach.
“This one.”
His expression broke.
“I have not avoided it.”
“You didn’t know.”
“And now I do.”
“That doesn’t make you responsible for me.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“It makes me responsible to our child.”
The words unsettled her.
Our child.
She had not heard anyone say them aloud.
“You’re assuming—”
“That the timing makes me the father?”
“Yes.”
“If you want testing later, we test.”
Mara stared at him.
“You’re very clinical.”
“I’m trying not to pressure you.”
“You’re failing.”
He exhaled.
“I want to be involved.”
“Because of the scandal?”
His eyes flashed.
“Do you actually believe that?”
“I don’t know you.”
“That part is true.”
Silence.
Then Julian said, “So learn.”
Before Mara could answer, his computer chimed.
A preliminary audit result.
He opened the file.
Mercer Urban had wired $40 million into the Whitmore redevelopment partnership.
Eight point four million had been transferred the same day to Briar Lane Holdings as “land assembly reimbursement.”
Briar Lane’s registered manager:
Bianca Whitmore.
But the bank’s multifactor authentication records showed the transfer had been approved from Grant Whitmore’s executive-office IP address.
Mara whispered, “He used her company.”
Julian scrolled.
“Wait.”
Another payment.
Two million dollars.
Briar Lane to an entity called Voss Strategic Advisory.
Mara looked up.
“Voss.”
Julian’s face became stone.
The payment had been made nine days after Rosa’s warning letter arrived.
Peter had not misplaced it.
He had been paid.
Julian reached for his phone.
Mara stopped him.
“Don’t.”
“He took a bribe.”
“If he knows you found the payment, he’ll start destroying whatever is left.”
Julian stared at her.
For once, she was the one thinking three moves ahead.
He lowered the phone.
“You’re right.”
Mara looked again at the screen.
Grant had used Bianca.
Peter had betrayed Julian.
Her mother had tried to warn both of them.
Then another audit line appeared.
A seventy-five-thousand-dollar payment from Grant’s private account.
Recipient:
Rosa Ellis.
Mara’s face changed.
Julian quietly said, “Mara…”
“My mother took his money.”
May you like
Neither of them knew why.
And for the first time, Grant’s accusation no longer sounded entirely like a lie.
