My Mother-in-Law Shoved My Parents Into the Pool at My Wedding—Then I Made One Call That Changed Everything

"Where are you?" Clara asked.

"I can't say."

Charles Beck sounded like a man trying not to breathe loudly.

Martin was already tracing the call through a secure service.

"Mr. Beck," he said, "we can arrange protection."

"No police yet."

"Why?"

"Because Olivia owns half the people she shakes hands with, and the other half owe her something."

Clara stood. "What is Harbor?"

Silence.

Then Beck whispered, "A holding account. Money moves in, money moves out. Sometimes it becomes real estate. Sometimes it becomes consulting fees. Sometimes it just disappears."

"Whose money?"

Martin's face hardened.

"How much?"

"Last time I checked? Thirty-two million."

Clara gripped the edge of the desk.

"Ethan knows?"

"He knows enough."

That answer hurt more than yes.

A metallic sound came through the phone.

Beck stopped talking.

"Charles?"

A car door slammed in the background.

"They're here."

"Who?"

"I have to move."

The line went dead.

Martin looked at the trace. "The call bounced, but the original tower was near the old freight district."

Clara grabbed her coat.

"No," Martin said immediately.

"He's a witness."

"And this could be bait."

"Then send security."

Twenty minutes later, two private investigators reached the freight district. Clara watched their body-camera feed from Martin's conference room.

They found Beck's car behind a closed warehouse.

Driver's door open.

Phone on the pavement.

No Beck.

On the passenger seat sat a white envelope addressed to Clara.

One investigator opened it on camera.

Inside was a photograph of Ethan and a woman Clara recognized from Sterling's accounting department.

They were leaving a bank together.

On the back, Beck had written a number.

$7,800,000.

Below it were six words:

THIS IS WHAT HE DID FOR HER.

Her name was Natalie Cross.

Clara had met her twice.

Thirty-two, sharp, quiet, always carrying two phones.

Ethan once described her as "the only accountant in the building who can make Olivia nervous."

By breakfast, Martin's team had traced the bank in the photograph to a private branch in Connecticut.

Clara stared at the photo. "So Ethan forged my guarantee on May fourteenth, then went to a bank with Natalie the next morning."

"Maybe. We still need proof he forged it."

Clara's phone buzzed again.

This time it was Natalie.

Martin read the text. "Absolutely not."

"She contacted me, not you."

"That's what concerns me."

Clara agreed to go only after Martin placed two plainclothes investigators at a distance.

At 11:28, Natalie appeared in a tan coat and sunglasses.

She did not greet Clara.

"You canceled the wedding," she said.

"You noticed."

"Everyone noticed."

"Where is Charles?"

Natalie's mouth tightened. "Alive, I hope."

"What did Ethan do for you?"

Natalie looked toward the river. "He moved money."

"Seven point eight million?"

Her head snapped around. "Where did you get that number?"

"Answer me."

Clara said nothing.

"Ethan and I never slept together. He used my credentials to move seven point eight million out of Harbor into a shell company. When I found out, he promised to move it back before quarterly reporting."

"Did he?"

"No."

"Where did it go?"

Natalie took off her sunglasses.

Her eyes were red from lack of sleep.

Clara stared at her.

"He stole company money to buy control of the company?"

"Not exactly."

Natalie reached into her bag and handed Clara a folded ownership chart.

"The shares weren't purchased in Ethan's name."

Clara unfolded it.

The buyer was a Delaware entity called CD Holdings.