Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Knew Too Much
The woman stood in my doorway, breathing heavily.
"Evan Mercer."
I knew her voice.
The same voice from the elevator.
The same voice that had warned me not to drink my coffee.
But now she looked different.
Not because of her clothes.
Not because of her face.
Because she looked afraid.
And people did not look afraid when they entered my office.
They usually looked nervous.
They looked impressed.
They looked like they wanted something from me.
But this woman looked like she was running from something.
I stepped closer.
"Who are you?"
She glanced behind her before entering the office.
"Close the door."
I didn't move.
"You're the person who left the note."
Her eyes met mine.
"Yes."
The answer came too quickly.
No hesitation.
No denial.
That surprised me.
Most people lied when they were caught.
She didn't.
She walked inside and closed the glass door behind her.
For the first time, I noticed how exhausted she looked.
There were dark circles beneath her eyes.
Her hands were shaking slightly.
She placed the folder she was holding on my desk.
"My name is Claire Bennett."
I studied her.
"Do I know you?"
"No."
"Then how do you know my name?"
She looked at the yellow sticky note beside my coffee machine.
"Because I have been trying to get your attention for three weeks."
The words made my expression harden.
"Three weeks?"
She nodded.
"Three weeks ago, I discovered something inside Mercer Holdings that should never have happened."
I leaned back.
"And you decided the best way to tell me was by leaving mysterious notes?"
"I tried to reach you directly."
"When?"
"Your assistant blocked every request."
I immediately thought of Rachel.
My executive assistant had worked with me for five years.
She knew my schedule.
She knew my habits.
She knew almost everything about my life.
But she had also told me nobody entered my floor that morning.
And that was a lie.
I looked at Claire carefully.
"What did you discover?"
She opened the folder.
Inside were printed documents.
Financial records.
Internal reports.
Employee files.
At first glance, nothing looked unusual.
Mercer Holdings was a massive company.
Thousands of transactions happened every day.
But then Claire pointed to one page.
"Look here."
I walked closer.
A series of payments appeared.
Large amounts.
Transferred between companies I recognized.
Except I didn't recognize one thing.
A company called North Vale Consulting.
"Who are they?"
Claire swallowed.
"That's the problem."
"What problem?"
"They don't exist."
I stared at her.
"What?"
She tapped the page.
"North Vale Consulting was created eight months ago. It has no real employees. No office. No public records. But Mercer Holdings has transferred over forty million dollars to them."
My jaw tightened.
"Forty million?"
She nodded.
"And every transfer was approved using your authorization."
The room went silent.
I looked at the signature.
My signature.
Or something very close to it.
A copy.
A fake.
Someone had been moving millions of dollars out of my company.
And they had made it look like I approved it.
"Why didn't you report this?"
"I did."
"To who?"
She looked away.
"Your board."
"And?"
"They ignored me."
The answer was quiet.
But it hit harder than shouting.
I walked back to my desk.
"You're telling me someone inside my company is stealing money, and the board knows?"
"I don't know if the entire board knows."
"Then who knows?"
Claire hesitated.
That hesitation bothered me more than anything else.
"Claire."
She looked at me.
"Who knows?"
She lowered her voice.
"Your Chief Financial Officer."
My expression changed.
Daniel Cross.
My CFO.
A man who had been beside me since Mercer Holdings was still a small company.
He had helped me survive the hardest years.
He had been at my side during every major decision.
I trusted him.
Or at least I thought I did.
"You understand what you're accusing him of?"
"I understand exactly what I'm saying."
She opened another document.
"This isn't just about stolen money."
She turned the page.
My eyes moved across the report.
Then stopped.
A list of names.
Employees.
Former employees.
People who had left Mercer Holdings suddenly.
People I remembered.
"What is this?"
Claire's face became serious.
"Everyone on this list tried to investigate North Vale Consulting."
I looked at the names.
One name caught my attention.
Michael Reeves.
My former legal director.
He had resigned six months ago.
The official reason was personal.
But I remembered something.
The night before he left, he had called me.
I had ignored it.
I was in a meeting.
The next morning, he was gone.
I looked at Claire.
"What happened to them?"
"Some quit."
"And the others?"
She didn't answer.
That was the answer.
I felt something I hated feeling.
Uncertainty.
For years, I had built my company by making decisions quickly.
Trusting facts.
Trusting numbers.
Trusting myself.
But now I was standing in my own office realizing someone had been hiding an entire operation right under my eyes.
"Why me?"
Claire looked confused.
"What?"
"Why risk your job to warn me?"
Her expression changed.
For a moment, she looked less like an employee and more like someone carrying a painful memory.
"Because someone should have warned me."
The words were quiet.
I waited.
She looked down.
"My father worked for Mercer Holdings."
I frowned.
"I didn't know that."
"Nobody did."
"When?"
"Ten years ago."
Something about her voice changed.
"He was the person who discovered the first signs of financial fraud."
I stared at her.
"And what happened?"
She looked at the floor.
"He disappeared."
The room became completely still.
"Disappeared?"
"Everyone said he left the company voluntarily."
"Did he?"
She looked directly at me.
"No."
The certainty in her voice was impossible to ignore.
"What happened to him?"
"I don't know."
A pause.
"But I know he left behind one thing."
"What?"
She reached into her folder.
She pulled out an old photograph.
A man standing outside the original Mercer Holdings office.
Young.
Smiling.
Holding a small notebook.
I recognized the building.
I recognized the logo.
But I didn't recognize the man.
Until I saw the back of the photograph.
There was handwriting.
A message.
My hands froze.
Because the handwriting looked exactly like the sticky note.
Trust no one.
Except Evan.
I looked at Claire.
"Where did you get this?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she said something that made my blood run cold.
"My father wasn't investigating someone outside your company."
She stepped closer.
"He was investigating someone who is still working here."
I looked at the photograph again.
"Who?"
Claire opened her mouth.
Then the lights in my office suddenly went out.
The emergency system should have activated.
It didn't.
The entire executive floor went dark.
I reached for my phone.
No signal.
Claire whispered my name.
"Evan."
I turned toward her.
She was staring at the glass wall behind me.
Not at me.
At something reflected in it.
Someone standing outside my office.
A figure in the darkness.
I slowly turned around.
The hallway was empty.
Then my office computer turned on by itself.
A single notification appeared on the screen.
One new message.
From an unknown sender.
I walked closer.
The message contained only five words.
"Ask her about your father."
May you like
And beneath it was a second line.
A name I had not heard in twenty years.
