Chapter 2 - The Name Bryce Pretended Not to Know
Sloane searched for Emilia Rowe that night.
She found dozens of people with the name, but only one lived close enough to matter.
Emilia Rowe was thirty-two and worked as a freelance interior designer. Her social media pages showed luxury apartments, coastal hotels and carefully arranged photographs of flowers, fabrics and quiet breakfasts.
There were no photographs of Bryce.
There were also no photographs of a husband or boyfriend.
Sloane studied Emilia’s face until midnight, looking for something that might explain Bryce’s reaction. She hated herself for doing it. A photograph could not reveal whether a stranger was part of an affair, a financial crime or an innocent coincidence.
Bryce entered the bedroom while she was still awake.
“You searched for her,” he said.
It was not a question.
Sloane closed the tablet.
“Shouldn’t I?”
“She consulted on one of our hotel projects.”
“Which one?”
“The Havenridge renovation.”
“That project ended two years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And her name frightened you tonight.”
“It did not frighten me.”
“You recognized it.”
Bryce removed his watch and placed it on the dresser.
“I recognized a contractor connected to a project Gavin managed. That proves nothing.”
“Was she connected to the missing money?”
“I have no reason to believe so.”
“Did you tell the investigators about her?”
“No, because until Gavin mentioned the mailbox, there was nothing to tell.”
Sloane watched him carefully.
“Have you spoken to her recently?”
Bryce turned away to loosen his tie.
“Our marriage cannot survive if every question becomes an accusation.”
“Our marriage will not survive if every answer avoids the question.”
He faced her again.
“You are exhausted. The city contract, the board, Gavin moving in and your grandmother’s estate have placed you under enormous pressure.”
Sloane felt the familiar shift.
Bryce often responded to difficult questions by describing her emotions rather than addressing his actions. The technique had once sounded like concern. Now it felt like a locked door.
“Have you spoken to Emilia recently?”
“No.”
The answer came cleanly.
Too cleanly.
Sloane nodded.
“Then you won’t object if I ask our legal team to review every payment connected to her.”
Bryce’s expression hardened.
“You would damage the company’s reputation based on Gavin’s theory?”
“I would privately review financial records.”
“And when employees discover you do not trust your own chief financial officer?”
“They will wonder why my chief financial officer is afraid of a review.”
Bryce stared at her.
For a moment, she saw the man beneath the charm.
Then he smiled.
“Review anything you like.”
He kissed her forehead and entered the bathroom.
Sloane waited until the water began running before reopening her tablet.
Emilia’s newest photograph had been posted twenty minutes earlier.
It showed a restaurant table set for two.
Only one person appeared in the image, but the edge of a man’s navy sleeve was visible across from her.
Bryce had worn a navy suit that day.
Sloane enlarged the photograph.
Near the man’s hand was a silver watch with a dark green face.
She looked at the dresser.
Bryce’s watch had the same face.
She did not sleep.
The next morning, she called Naomi Chen, the attorney who had represented her family for more than a decade.
Naomi met her at a quiet café several blocks from the company’s headquarters. She listened without interruption while Sloane explained Gavin’s report, the false companies, Emilia’s mailbox and the photograph.
When Sloane finished, Naomi placed her coffee down.
“You need an independent forensic review.”
“Without informing Bryce.”
“Especially without informing Bryce.”
“Do you think he framed Gavin?”
“I think your husband controlled the investigation into a crime that may connect to a woman he knows.”
Sloane looked through the window at passing traffic.
“I married him.”
“That does not make him innocent.”
“It makes me responsible for bringing him into the company.”
Naomi leaned forward.
“Do not confuse being deceived with causing the deception.”
Sloane hired a forensic accountant named Adrian Cole. He had previously investigated executive fraud at two public companies and had a reputation for noticing patterns others dismissed.
Adrian requested access to archived server logs, vendor records and property filings. To avoid alerting Bryce, he worked under the explanation that the board needed a routine compliance review before signing the city contract.
Within forty-eight hours, he found the first anomaly.
The suspicious payments were approved using Gavin’s credentials, but the authorization requests had originated from an executive terminal in Bryce’s office.
“That doesn’t prove Bryce was physically present,” Adrian warned.
“But it proves Gavin did not approve them from his computer.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t the internal investigation find this?”
Adrian looked at the digital record again.
“Because the original logs were deleted.”
“By whom?”
“The deletion was performed using an administrator account.”
“Bryce has administrator access.”
“So does the head of information security.”
Sloane knew the head of information security well.
Bryce had hired him.
Adrian found something else. The missing money had not disappeared into the fake vendors. It had moved through them, then into a holding company called Silver Vale Consulting.
The company had no employees, no office and no visible operations.
Its registered agent was Emilia Rowe.
Sloane closed her eyes.
“How much did she receive?”
“Not all of it. Most of the money moved again.”
“Where?”
“A private investment account. The ownership records are restricted.”
“Can you obtain them?”
“With time.”
Time was the one resource Sloane feared she did not have.
That afternoon, Bryce asked her to sign a packet of documents concerning the city redevelopment project.
He placed the papers neatly on her desk.
“Standard liability protections,” he said.
Sloane began reading.
Bryce smiled.
“You usually trust legal to handle the details.”
“I am trying a new habit.”
On page forty-three, she found a reference to a family asset protection trust.
The language allowed certain real estate holdings to be transferred as collateral if the development company failed to meet specified obligations.
“Why is the house mentioned?”
“It is not being transferred.”
“It is listed as a qualifying asset.”
“Only as a temporary guarantee.”
“The house is not part of the development company.”
“That is why the protection trust is necessary.”
Sloane turned to the signature page.
The witness line was blank.
The notary section had already been completed.
The notary’s name was Emilia Rowe.
Sloane lifted her eyes.
“You said she was an interior designer.”
“She is also a licensed notary.”
“You said you had not spoken to her recently.”
“Our legal team may have contacted her.”
“Why would our legal team use an interior designer from a project that ended two years ago to notarize documents involving my house?”
Bryce’s face remained still.
Then he reached across the desk and closed the folder.
“You are allowing Gavin to poison your judgment.”
“Did Emilia prepare these documents?”
“No.”
“Did she know they concerned my house?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ask her to notarize them?”
Bryce picked up the folder.
“We’ll discuss this when you are calmer.”
Sloane stood.
“I am calm.”
“That is what worries me.”
He left the office with the papers.
Sloane watched the door close.
A minute later, her phone vibrated.
It was a message from Adrian.
I found the owner of the restricted investment account.
Sloane called immediately.
“Tell me.”
May you like
Adrian hesitated.
“The account belongs to Marlene Vale.”
