Chapter 4 - The File With Emily’s Name
Emily had no time to retreat.
The door opened.
Adrian stood there.
His expression shifted when he saw her.
“Emily?”
She held up the printout.
“I found something.”
Victoria appeared behind him.
Her eyes dropped to the paper.
For the first time since Emily had met her, Victoria looked genuinely unsettled.
Adrian noticed.
“What did you find?”
Emily entered.
The door closed.
She placed the printout on his desk.
“Two hundred forty thousand dollars was transferred today under your authorization.”
Adrian read it.
“I didn’t approve this.”
“I know.”
Victoria said, “You know?”
“You were presenting when it happened.”
Adrian looked at her.
“You remembered?”
“I was taking notes.”
He almost smiled.
Victoria didn’t.
“W-17,” Emily said. “It appears across six departments.”
Adrian handed the document to Marcus, who had entered through the adjoining office.
“Trace it.”
“I already tried,” Emily said.
Marcus glanced at her.
“Restricted?”
“Yes.”
“Executive level?”
“Yes.”
Victoria walked toward the window.
“This is inappropriate.”
Adrian looked at her.
“What is?”
“Discussing confidential financial matters with a probationary analyst.”
Emily stiffened.
Adrian replied, “The probationary analyst found it.”
“That does not give her clearance.”
“No. I do.”
Victoria turned.
“You’re letting emotion interfere with judgment.”
“What emotion?”
Nobody answered.
Emily suddenly wished she were anywhere else.
Adrian said, “Marcus, give Emily temporary audit clearance.”
Victoria’s voice sharpened.
“Absolutely not.”
Adrian stared at her.
“Why?”
Victoria hesitated.
That hesitation mattered.
Emily saw Adrian recognize it too.
Marcus quietly typed.
“Clearance granted.”
Emily opened the W-17 profile.
A directory appeared.
Forty-three files.
The oldest dated eleven years earlier.
Emily clicked one.
Payroll adjustments.
Another.
Consulting fees.
Another.
Recruitment.
She stopped.
Recruitment?
She opened it.
A list appeared.
Names.
Scores.
Applications.
Rejected candidates.
Emily scrolled.
Then stopped breathing.
CARTER, EMILY.
Her own name.
The file had been created four months before she applied.
“That’s impossible,” she whispered.
Adrian came around the desk.
“What?”
Emily pointed.
“I hadn’t applied yet.”
Marcus stared at the date.
Victoria said nothing.
Emily opened the file.
Her address was there.
Her employment history.
Her mother’s name.
Noah’s school.
Even the bakery where she worked.
Her hands went cold.
“Why does your company have a file on me?”
Adrian looked genuinely shocked.
“I don’t know.”
Emily turned toward Victoria.
Victoria’s face had gone pale.
“You know.”
“No.”
“You knew my name before the interview.”
“I review many candidates.”
“I wasn’t a candidate four months ago.”
Silence.
Emily stepped closer.
“Why was I being watched?”
Victoria finally looked at Adrian.
“This has gone far enough.”
“No,” Adrian said. “It hasn’t.”
He locked the office door.
Victoria stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting an answer.”
Marcus continued searching.
“Adrian.”
“What?”
“I found something.”
He opened another document.
W-17 wasn’t a vendor.
It was an internal holding designation.
Created eighteen years earlier.
Authorized by Adrian’s father, Charles Whitmore.
Emily stared.
“What does that have to do with me?”
Marcus opened the original authorization.
A second name appeared.
Margaret Carter.
Emily’s mother.
She stepped backward.
“No.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Is that your mother?”
“Yes.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
Emily’s voice shook.
“My mother has never worked here.”
Victoria finally spoke.
“That’s what she told you.”
Emily stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
Victoria sat slowly.
“Your mother worked for Whitmore Holdings twenty-two years ago.”
Emily couldn’t process it.
“She was an accounting assistant.”
“No.”
“She was.”
“My mother cleaned houses.”
“After she left.”
“Why would she lie?”
Victoria looked toward Adrian.
“Because she discovered something she was never supposed to see.”
The room became silent.
Emily looked at the W-17 files.
“Money?”
“Yes.”
“Fraud?”
Victoria didn’t answer.
Adrian did.
“How much?”
“Back then? Nearly four million.”
Marcus whispered, “Jesus.”
“Who?”
Victoria looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
Adrian laughed once, without humor.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I know what Margaret suspected. I don’t know whether she was right.”
Emily felt anger replace shock.
“And instead of investigating, you followed her?”
“We protected the company.”
“You destroyed her career.”
Victoria flinched.
Emily saw it.
“You did.”
“Your mother signed a confidentiality agreement.”
“Because you threatened her?”
“No.”
Emily stared.
Victoria corrected herself.
“Not exactly.”
“That means yes.”
Adrian stepped between them.
“What happened?”
Victoria looked suddenly older.
“Margaret discovered payments being routed through shell vendors. She reported them to your father.”
“My father?”
“He promised to investigate.”
“And?”
“Two days later, Margaret was accused of stealing company records.”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“She didn’t.”
“I know.”
Those two words silenced everyone.
Emily whispered, “You knew?”
Victoria nodded.
“Then why didn’t you help her?”
“Because I was afraid.”
Emily laughed bitterly.
The woman who had judged her dress.
Her education.
Her pedigree.
Afraid.
“My mother lost everything.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Emily grabbed her bag.
Adrian reached for her.
She stepped away.
“Don’t.”
“Emily—”
“I need to go.”
“Take the files.”
She stopped.
“What?”
Adrian copied them onto an encrypted drive.
Victoria stood.
“You cannot do that.”
“I just did.”
He handed it to Emily.
“If your mother was harmed by this company, she deserves to know what we found.”
Emily took it.
Her fingers trembled.
She left without another word.
The bus ride home felt endless.
Her mother was in the kitchen when Emily arrived.
Margaret smiled.
“You’re late.”
Emily placed the drive on the table.
Her mother’s smile vanished.
“Mom.”
No answer.
“What was W-17?”
Margaret stared at the drive.
Twenty-two years seemed to pass across her face in seconds.
“Where did you hear that?”
“At Whitmore.”
Margaret stood abruptly.
“You need to quit.”
Emily froze.
“What?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Mom—”
“Tonight if you can.”
“Why?”
Margaret grabbed her hands.
“Because I made the mistake of thinking the truth would protect me.”
Emily had never seen her mother this frightened.
“Who hurt you?”
Margaret looked toward the dark kitchen window.
Then back at her daughter.
“The person who created W-17.”
“Who?”
Before Margaret could answer, headlights swept across the window.
A black car stopped outside their house.
Margaret’s face drained of color.
“No.”
Emily turned.
A car door opened.
Someone stepped onto the sidewalk.
May you like
Margaret whispered one name.
“Charles.”
