Chapter 18 - Unfinished Threads
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Two months after the studio’s opening, spring began to thaw the frozen banks of the river.
Life had settled into a peaceful, rewarding rhythm. Grant Meridian was thriving under new compliance protocols, Claire’s charity work was expanding rapidly, and the shadows of Nathan Vale seemed safely locked behind prison bars.
Or so I thought.
On a quiet Tuesday afternoon, I was sitting in my private study at home, reviewing quarterly logistics reports on my laptop, when Marcus knocked on the door.
His expression was dark and solemn.
“Mrs. Grant,” Marcus said, stepping into the room. “We have an unusual situation.”
I set my reading glasses down. “What is it, Marcus?”
“A courier just delivered a certified package to our main security desk downtown,” Marcus explained, placing a thick manila envelope on my desk. “It was sent from the State Correctional Facility where Nathan Vale is serving his sentence.”
I stared at the envelope. “Is he trying to contact Claire?”
“No,” Marcus replied grimly. “The package isn't from Nathan. It was sent by his cellmate’s attorney, but the contents were marked specifically for your attention.”
I picked up a brass letter opener and sliced the envelope open.
Inside was a single USB thumb drive and a handwritten note on lined legal paper:
Mrs. Grant,
Nathan Vale thinks he’s a criminal mastermind, but he talks too much in his sleep. He wasn't the one who came up with the shell company scheme.
May you like
He was working for someone higher up in your own supply chain network—someone who is still sitting on your executive board.
Plug in the drive if you want the names.
