Chapter 8 - THE ACCOUNTANT
The accountant came to my attorney's office on a rainy Thursday.
His name was Robert Miles.
He had worked for Daniel's company for eleven years.
He looked exhausted.
“I don't want money,” he said.
Margaret nodded.
“What do you want?”
“To stop lying.”
He placed a folder on the table.
“I prepared the financial reports.”
I opened it.
“There were transfers.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“More than the amount you know about.”
My heart sank.
“How much?”
Robert looked at me.
“Three hundred and twelve thousand dollars.”
I stared at him.
“Where did it go?”
“Different accounts.”
“Why?”
“To make the company appear more profitable than it was.”
Margaret leaned forward.
“And Claire's money?”
Robert nodded.
“Some of it was used to cover the shortfall.”
I felt sick.
“So he stole from me to hide his company's problems.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because investors were asking questions.”
Margaret exchanged a look with me.
“What happened when you questioned him?”
Robert swallowed.
“He told me to stop asking.”
“And?”
“He fired me.”
“When?”
“The day before your husband attacked you.”
Silence filled the office.
Margaret asked:
“Do you have proof?”
Robert nodded.
He opened his laptop.
Emails.
Spreadsheets.
Bank transfers.
Internal instructions.
Everything.
Then he showed us one final message.
Daniel had sent it to his brother.
If Claire files for divorce, freeze everything before she discovers the accounts.
I stared at the screen.
Margaret whispered:
“He knew you might leave.”
Robert nodded.
“And he knew what would happen if you did.”
I looked at him.
“Why didn't you come forward earlier?”
He lowered his head.
“Because I was afraid.”
I understood.
Fear wasn't weakness.
Fear was what powerful people created around themselves.
But Daniel's circle was collapsing.
One witness at a time.
One document at a time.
One lie at a time.
That night, I received a message from an unknown number.
A photograph.
It showed Daniel standing beside a woman.
The same woman who had called me.
But there was someone else in the photograph.
Lorraine.
They were all together.
The timestamp was from six months earlier.
Underneath the photograph was one sentence:
You still don't know what they were planning for Noah.
My blood ran cold.
I immediately forwarded it to Margaret.
She called me.
“Don't respond.”
“I won't.”
“Stay where you are.”
“Why?”
“Because if someone is sending this now, they want you to know something.”
“What?”
Margaret was silent.
Then:
“Someone may be trying to warn you.”
The next morning, we learned what that warning meant.
A court document had been filed.
Not by Daniel.
Not by Lorraine.
By a woman I'd never heard of.
She was petitioning for emergency guardianship of Noah.
Her name was:
Evelyn Hart.
Daniel's grandmother.
May you like
And according to the petition, she claimed I was an “unfit mother.”
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