Chapter 8 - Corporate Treason
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My head snapped up. "My company? Why would you involve my work?"
Vivian hesitated. That tiny pause terrified me more than anything else.
"There might be corporate exposure," Vivian said quietly. "Some of the money moving through Ryan’s shadow accounts appears to have originated from vendor payments connected to your marketing department."
"No," I said instantly, backing away from the table. "Absolutely not. I run a tight ship. Every vendor is vetted."
"Claire, I'm not accusing you. But your digital signature is on the approval forms. If he used your credentials—"
A knock at the hotel door cut her off.
We both froze. Vivian walked to the peephole, then unlocked the deadbolt.
Detective Morales walked in, but she wasn't alone. Behind her stood a tall, broad-shouldered man in a sharp grey suit. He had the hard, uncompromising look of federal law enforcement.
"Mrs. Bennett," the man said, flashing a gold badge. "I’m Special Agent Marcus Hale. FBI Financial Crimes Division. We need to have a serious conversation."
I sank into the chair I had refused to sit in earlier. "You're here about my company."
Hale nodded, taking a seat across from me. He placed a thick file on the table. "Do you recognize a company called Northstar Data Systems?"
"Yes," I said, my mind racing. "They’re a vendor. Marketing analytics. We brought them on about eighteen months ago."
"Who recommended them for the contract?" Hale asked.
I searched my memory, and then it hit me like a physical blow. "Ryan. He said he knew one of their founders from college. An analytics genius."
Hale slid a photograph across the table. It showed a middle-aged man standing outside a dive bar. "Evan Mercer. The supposed founder."
"I've met him once. At a company dinner."
"Northstar doesn't have any employees, Mrs. Bennett," Hale said flatly. "It has no offices. It has no servers. It is a ghost entity. Millions of corporate dollars passed through it, authorized by your credentials, and funneled directly into accounts tied to your husband."
"I approve invoices remotely all the time," I said, my voice trembling. "He knew my passwords. He knew my security questions."
Hale leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine. "One of the largest invoices was approved last spring. On a Tuesday at 2:00 PM. Do you know where you were?"
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"I don't—" I stopped. Last spring. "I was in the hospital. I had my gallbladder removed. I was under general anesthesia."
"Exactly," Hale said. "Your husband used your identity to steal from your company while you were unconscious."
