Chapter 4: The Promise She Was Hiding
I stared at my mother.
"What did he promise you?""
Mom looked toward the study door, then lowered her voice.
"Not here.""
"Why not here?""
"Because your father has already decided I'm a liar.""
I almost laughed.
She had kissed his employee in our living room, discussed a future with him, and admitted signing paperwork she hadn't read.
Yet somehow, she was the one who felt betrayed.
"Mom," I said, "I watched you kiss Grant.""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I know.""
"I heard you ask him to be patient.""
"I know.""
"You told him Dad trusts him.""
She flinched.
"Please don't repeat everything I said.""
"Why? Because it sounds terrible when someone says it out loud?""
Mom sat down on the hallway bench.
Her hands trembled in her lap.
"I didn't plan for any of this to happen.""
"Then tell me what happened.""
She looked at me for a long time before speaking.
"Grant came to me about the foundation six months ago. He said your father was too busy with the acquisition to oversee our charitable accounts. He offered to help with the paperwork.""
"You mean company paperwork?""
"Some of it. Some of it was foundation paperwork.""
"That's not the same thing.""
"I know that now.""
The answer made my stomach turn.
"How much did he ask you to sign?""
"I don't remember.""
"You don't remember?""
"Emma, there were folders. There were forms. I thought Michael had approved them. Grant said it was easier if I signed as treasurer, because your father would have to leave his meetings to review routine documents otherwise.""
"And you believed him?""
Mom's shoulders collapsed.
"Yes.""
I stood up.
She caught my wrist.
"Please. I know how this looks.""
"How it looks?""
"I need you to understand that Grant made me feel important again.""
The sentence stopped me.
Mom released my wrist and stared at the floor.
"Your father is always working. When he comes home, he's thinking about the office, about his employees, about the next contract. I could sit beside him for an hour and feel as if I weren't even there.""
"So you had an affair?""
"I didn't set out to.""
"But you did.""
She began crying again.
"I was lonely.""
The excuse sounded so small in the enormous silence of our house.
I thought about Dad's late-night phone calls from hotel rooms. The way he always asked about Mom before asking me about school. The anniversary flowers he had ordered every year, even when he was overseas.
Maybe their marriage had been lonely in ways I hadn't seen.
But loneliness didn't make deception harmless.
"Did you love Grant?"" I asked.
Mom looked up.
For a moment, she seemed unable to speak.
"Yes," she whispered.
I felt the word like a physical blow.
"More than Dad?""
She shook her head, then stopped.
"I don't know.""
I pulled my wrist free.
"Then you shouldn't have married him for twenty-four years.""
"Emma—"
"Don't.""
She closed her mouth.
I returned upstairs, shut my bedroom door, and sat on the edge of my bed.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Dad.
*Are you awake?*
I replied immediately.
*Yes.*
*Come to the study. I need your help with something.*
When I entered, Dad was sitting behind his desk with two laptops open and a stack of documents spread across the blotter. His jacket was draped over the chair. A half-empty coffee mug stood beside his hand.
He looked exhausted.
But he also looked focused in a way that made me think of the years when the company was small enough for him to handle every major decision himself.
"Sit down," he said.
I took the chair opposite him.
"Have you spoken to Mom?""
"Yes.""
"What did she tell you?""
"That Grant helped her with foundation paperwork. She said she trusted him because he told her you'd approved everything.""
Dad nodded slowly.
"That part might be true.""
I blinked.
"You believe her?""
"I believe it's possible she trusted him. That isn't the same as believing she had no idea what was happening.""
He turned his laptop toward me.
A list of transactions filled the screen.
"This is what Miriam sent me. These transfers were processed through an account connected to a dormant subsidiary. The sums are small enough to avoid attracting immediate attention individually, but together they amount to more than two million dollars.""
I stared at the numbers.
"Two million?""
"Approximately. We're still verifying the total.""
"Did Grant steal it?""
"We don't know yet.""
"But his credentials were used.""
"Yes.""
"And Mom signed something.""
"Yes.""
Dad leaned back.
"If I accuse him without evidence, he can claim the system was compromised. If I accuse your mother without understanding what she was told, I could destroy her life on assumptions.""
He rubbed his eyes.
"So we're going to establish the facts first.""
I had expected fury. I had expected him to pack Mom's belongings and change the locks before midnight.
Instead, he was sitting in his study, building a case.
"Why did you ask if Grant had been here before?"" I asked.
Dad looked at me.
"Because the first irregular transfer appeared six months ago. Around the same time Grant began visiting your mother.""
I thought of the envelope.
"The one in the video?""
"Possibly.""
He enlarged the image I had sent him.
"Look at the portfolio. Can you see the corner of the envelope?""
I leaned toward the screen.
The white rectangle was visible beneath the leather flap.
There was a small blue symbol printed near the edge.
I frowned.
"What is that?""
Dad's face became very still.
"That's the internal marking for confidential acquisition material.""
"What does that mean?""
"It means that envelope shouldn't have been brought here.""
He opened another file.
The screen displayed a table of documents connected to the acquisition.
"Grant was supposed to deliver those materials directly to me in Boston. He had no reason to bring them to our house.""
"Maybe he wanted to discuss work with Mom?""
Dad shook his head.
"Your mother has no role in the acquisition.""
"Then why did he bring it?""
"I don't know.""
He stared at the frozen image again.
Then he called Miriam.
"Can you confirm whether Grant's access badge was used at the main office this afternoon?""
There was a pause.
"You're sure?"" Dad asked.
Another pause.
"Send me the log.""
He ended the call and turned to me.
"Grant's company badge registered an entry at our headquarters at 1:32 p.m. But our records show the acquisition materials were checked out at 11:10 a.m.""
I frowned.
"He went to the office, took the envelope, came here, and then went back?""
"That's what the current records suggest.""
"Why?""
Dad didn't answer.
A new email appeared on his screen.
He opened it, read the first page, and sat completely still.
"What is it?"" I asked.
He turned the laptop toward me.
It was a scan of a document titled *Confidential Transaction Authorization*.
Beneath it were two signatures.
One belonged to Grant Mercer.
The other appeared to be my father's.
"That's Dad's signature," I whispered.
"Yes.""
"Then he approved the transaction?""
"No.""
Dad pointed to the timestamp.
"This document was supposedly signed three weeks ago. I was in London that day, and I have no record of seeing it.""
"But it looks like your signature.""
"Someone may have copied it.""
My mouth went dry.
"So Grant forged it?""
"That's one possibility.""
Dad scrolled down to the witness section.
I recognized the second name immediately.
Laura Hayes.
My mother's signature.
She hadn't merely signed a random stack of papers.
She had witnessed a transaction that appeared to carry my father's approval, a transaction linked to more than two million dollars in questionable transfers.
"Why would she do that?"" I asked.
"That's what we're going to find out.""
Dad printed the document and placed it in a folder.
Then he looked at me.
"Emma, there's something else I need to ask you.""
"What?""
"When you recorded Grant and your mother, did you see him put anything into the portfolio?""
"No.""
"Did you see him remove anything?""
I tried to remember.
Grant had placed the portfolio on the table before kissing Mom. Afterward, his phone had rung, and he'd walked away to answer it.
The portfolio remained on the table.
"I don't think so.""
Dad nodded, but his face remained tense.
"All right.""
He stood and walked to the study door.
"Get some sleep. I'll take you to the office tomorrow morning.""
"Why do I need to go?""
"Because you witnessed something important, and I want you to understand what we're dealing with.""
He opened the door, then paused.
"Emma?""
"Yes?""
"If anyone asks you to delete that video or change your story, you call me immediately. No exceptions.""
I nodded.
He waited until I left before closing the door.
Upstairs, I lay awake staring at the ceiling.
At 2:06 a.m., I heard footsteps moving through the hallway.
Then my mother's voice.
"Michael, please open the door.""
Dad's reply was quiet.
"Go to bed, Laura.""
"I can't. We need to talk.""
"We've talked enough for tonight.""
She began to cry.
"You don't understand what he told me.""
Dad didn't answer.
Then Mom said something that made my blood run cold.
"Grant said that if the deal went through, you would lose control of the company anyway. He promised me we wouldn't have to depend on you anymore.""
Silence.
A long, terrible silence.
Then Dad asked, "What deal, Laura?""
I pressed my ear against the bedroom door.
May you like
Mom whispered a name.
And my father said nothing at all.