Quietly.
“I was angry.”
“So you punished me?”
“I thought I was proving my value.”
“To who?”
He had no answer.
Then Richard’s phone rang.
He checked it.
“Federal investigator.”
I looked at Daniel.
He understood immediately.
“They know?”
His shoulders collapsed.
“What happens now?”
I wanted to hate him.
It would have been easier.
Instead, all I could see was a man who had been my brother in every way except blood.
A man who made one terrible choice after another because resentment grew in silence.
“What happens now,” I said, “is you tell the truth.”
“All of it.”
His voice shook.
“Will you help me?”
I closed my eyes.
That question nearly broke me.
“But I won’t lie about who you were to me before this.”
Tears ran down his face.
I stood.
“Get an attorney.”
Richard opened the door.
Before I left, Daniel called my name.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
I looked at him for a long time.
“Intent doesn’t erase impact.”
Then I walked out.
By morning, Daniel had voluntarily surrendered his laptop and phone.
He admitted sharing internal files with North Coast.
He denied knowing Adrian had criminally obtained other data.
Investigators believed parts of his story.
Not all.
Our board convened at eight.
For the first time in twenty-three years, Daniel’s chair was empty.
I sat at the head of the table.
Not because I felt powerful.
Because nobody else could.
The general counsel finished his report.
Then one director asked the question I expected.
“Simone, should you step aside temporarily?”
The room went quiet.
I looked around at faces I had known for years.
People who trusted me.
People who were now afraid.
I understood.
“What’s your reason?”
“Governance.”
“Say more.”
“You canceled a major acquisition during a personal confrontation.”
The headline.
I folded my hands.
“I canceled because the acquiring party’s representative participated in unauthorized operational interference.”
“That wasn’t established at the time.”
“So was the decision emotional?”
The room shifted.
“And correct.”
“Those things can coexist.”
Nobody spoke.
I leaned forward.
“If you want to remove me, vote.”
One director frowned.
“That isn’t necessary.”
I looked around.
“Either trust my leadership through this investigation or don’t.”
No one moved.
Finally, our chairwoman spoke.
“I move we retain Ms. Carter as CEO subject to independent review.”
Seconded.
Vote.
Unanimous.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
You think Daniel was the leak. He was only the door.
My blood went cold.
A second message arrived.
If you want the person who actually planned this, look at the one place you never audit.
Then one photograph.
My stomach dropped.
It showed a storage facility.
Carter Retail Archive Center.
The basement entrance.
And standing beside it was a woman I recognized immediately.
My late husband’s sister.
Rebecca.
The woman I had trusted with Naomi’s foundation for fifteen years.
Chapter 6
I hadn’t spoken to Rebecca in two months.
That suddenly felt impossible.
For fifteen years, she had run the Carter-Naomi Foundation, the charity I created after my daughter died.
The foundation funded neonatal care, grieving-parent counseling, and emergency housing for mothers with critically ill babies.
Rebecca had been Naomi’s aunt.
She had held my daughter.
She had cried beside me at the funeral.
When my marriage to her brother collapsed after Naomi’s death, Rebecca stayed.
At least I believed she did.
I stared at the photograph.
Richard stood beside me in the boardroom.
“Who is she?”
“My former sister-in-law.”
“Does she work for Carter Retail?”
“Then why is she at your archive center?”
I had no answer.
Our archive facility held historical contracts, store-level accounting records, old acquisition files, and physical backup documents.
It wasn’t glamorous.
It also wasn’t heavily monitored because most current data was digital.
The text had said the one place I never audited.
It was right.
I called security.
“Lock the archive center.”
Our director hesitated.
Within ten minutes, the facility was sealed.
Rebecca called me thirteen minutes later.
That was fast.
Her voice sounded normal.
I hated that.
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Really?”
“Were you at Carter Archive yesterday?”
My chest tightened.
“Rebecca.”
“What is this about?”
“Answer me.”
She exhaled.
“Foundation records.”
“The foundation has its own storage.”