Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN WHO HAD BEEN WATCHING
That night, I went home and didn't sleep.
I sat at my kitchen table surrounded by documents.
At 3:17 a.m., I noticed something I'd missed.
A recurring payment.
Every month.
$7,500.
From a company called RHC Consulting.
The payments went to an account controlled by my father.
But the invoices listed “strategic advisory services.”
My father had never advised my company.
Then I checked the dates.
The payments began immediately after Mallory's first loan.
That couldn't be coincidence.
I called my CFO.
“Did you authorize payments to RHC?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
She went silent.
“That's impossible.”
“Look at your records.”
A minute later she called back.
“Nadine…”
“What?”
“The authorization came from your digital credentials.”
My heart sank.
“Someone accessed my account.”
“Yes.”
“Can you trace it?”
“We're trying.”
Then she said something that changed everything.
“The access came from inside your parents' house.”
I didn't speak.
She continued.
“IP address matches.”
I looked at the clock.
3:42 a.m.
I called my attorney.
Then I called the federal agent.
Then I made the decision.
We were going to stop defending.
We were going to attack.
At eight the next morning, I filed a counterclaim.
Not for emotional damages.
Not for the destroyed bakery.
For fraud.
Conspiracy.
Forgery.
Attempted fraudulent transfer.
Unauthorized access to corporate systems.
And intentional destruction of commercial property.
My attorney estimated the damages at $18 million.
My father's attorney called me within an hour.
“You've lost your mind.”
“No.”
“You're suing your parents for eighteen million dollars?”
“No.”
I paused.
“I'm suing them for everything they did.”
He laughed.
“You think a jury will believe this?”
I looked at the file in front of me.
“Yes.”
“Your parents have a reputation.”
“So do I.”
He became quiet.
Then he said:
“Your father wants to settle.”
“I'm not interested.”
“He'll pay for the bakery.”
“No.”
“He'll pay you $500,000.”
“No.”
“A million.”
“No.”
“Two million.”
I smiled.
“You still don't understand.”
“What?”
“I don't want his money.”
“Then what do you want?”
I looked through the window at the sunrise.
“I want the truth.”
The line went silent.
Then he hung up.
Three hours later, Mallory called.
“Nadine.”
I didn't answer.
She called again.
Then again.
Finally, I picked up.
“What?”
“I need to see you.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Mallory, you've lied to investigators.”
“I know.”
“You participated in fraud.”
“I know.”
“You helped destroy my property.”
“I know.”
“Then what could you possibly say?”
Her voice cracked.
“Mom and Dad aren't the people you think they are.”
I almost laughed.
“I've known that for thirty-six years.”
“No.”
She whispered.
“You don't.”
That sentence made me pause.
“What do you mean?”
“They have another company.”
My eyes narrowed.
“What company?”
“I don't know the name.”
“Then why are you calling me?”
“Because I found a file.”
“What file?”
“A file with your name on it.”
I sat down.
“Where is it?”
“At Dad's house.”
“Why haven't you given it to the police?”
“Because they'll kill me.”
Silence.
“Mallory.”
“I know that sounds insane.”
“It does.”
“They told me something.”
“What?”
“That if I didn't get you to sign the transfer, they would make sure you went to prison.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“They said you were hiding money.”
My pulse quickened.
“What money?”
“I don't know.”
She began crying.
Then she whispered:
“They said your bakery wasn't your biggest asset.”
I stopped breathing.
“What did she say?”
“They said you owned something worth more.”
I looked toward the folder on my table.
May you like
For the first time, I wondered whether my parents had misunderstood my financial success.
Or whether they knew something about me that even I didn't.
