Chapter 9 - THE EMPLOYEE WHO CALLED ME
By noon, Whitmore Capital's new attorney had resigned too.
Rachel received the notice while we were leaving the building.
She laughed once.
“That's two.”
“Is that a record?”
“Not yet.”
My phone rang before I could answer.
Unknown number.
Normally I would have ignored it.
I didn't.
“Hello?”
A woman whispered.
“Is this Chloe Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Elena Ruiz.”
“I work in payroll at Whitmore Capital.”
I stopped walking.
Rachel saw my expression and moved closer.
“What can I do for you?”
Elena hesitated.
“I saw the news.”
“What news?”
“People are talking.”
“About the bank investigation.”
That had moved quickly.
She continued.
“I think I know why they needed your money.”
Rachel gestured toward a quiet corner.
I put the call on speaker.
Elena's voice trembled.
“For four months, our retirement contributions have been deducted from employee paychecks.”
“But they aren't appearing in the retirement accounts.”
Rachel's face changed instantly.
“Ms. Ruiz, how do you know that?”
“Because I process the payroll file.”
“I kept asking accounting.”
“They told me there was a delay.”
“Then Howard told me to stop asking.”
“How much money?”
“I don't know exactly.”
“Maybe several hundred thousand.”
My stomach dropped.
Money deducted from workers' pay but never transferred where promised.
That was not a bookkeeping error.
That was people's future.
Their retirement.
Their families.
Their trust.
“Do you have records?”
Rachel asked.
“I have payroll reports.”
“Don't take anything you aren't legally allowed to access.”
“I didn't.”
“I already had copies because it's part of my job.”
“Good.”
“I need you to speak with an attorney representing you independently before giving anything to anyone.”
Elena sounded surprised.
“You don't want me to send it to you?”
“No.”
Rachel said firmly.
“I want you protected.”
There was a long pause.
Then Elena whispered.
“Thank you.”
Before ending the call, she told us one more thing.
Two days before the wedding, Howard ordered payroll to postpone vendor payments.
The explanation was a temporary cash-flow issue.
Then yesterday morning, he told managers the company would receive a large infusion of capital by the end of the week.
Forty-five thousand dollars was not large enough.
That meant they expected more than my cashier's check.
They expected my trust.
Perhaps millions.
I felt sick.
That evening, Derek called.
I answered because Rachel had advised that his conversations might reveal useful information.
“Where are you?”
he demanded.
“Safe.”
“You need to stop this.”
“What exactly am I stopping?”
“The bank.”
“The lawyers.”
“My uncle running his mouth.”
“You created those problems.”
“You don't understand the consequences.”
“Then explain them.”
Derek was breathing hard.
“We're short on payroll.”
I closed my eyes.
“How short?”
He hesitated.
“Derek.”
“About nine hundred thousand.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where did it go?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“My dad controls operations.”
“And your mother?”
“She controls him.”
That sounded disturbingly believable.
“What was the plan?”
I asked.
“Use my trust?”
“Just temporarily.”
There it was.
“No.”
“Chloe, listen.”
“No.”
“You have millions sitting in investments.”
“These people need salaries.”
“Then sell your house.”
Silence.
“Sell your cars.”
Silence.
“Sell Brenda's jewelry.”
“Chloe.”
“Sell the lake property.”
“You know it isn't that simple.”
“It sounds simpler than stealing from me.”
He lowered his voice.
“If the company collapses, everyone will blame you.”
I felt something inside me settle.
There had been a small, foolish part of my heart still searching for the man I married.
That sentence killed it.
“No.”
I replied.
May you like
“They'll blame the people who emptied it.”
Then I hung up.
