Chapter 4 - The Missing Drive
By eight that morning, Graham’s suite had become a war room.
Caroline arrived in person with three attorneys, two cybersecurity specialists, and enough sealed folders to make me wonder whether she traveled with a mobile law firm hidden inside her luggage.
Marcus had doubled security.
The hotel placed our floor on restricted access.
Every television in the suite had been turned off after I threw a remote at one of them.
Not my finest professional moment.
In my defense, the anchor had just called me “the mysterious junior employee who married her billionaire CEO hours before allegations of data theft.”
Junior employee.
I had spent eleven years building a career in corporate acquisitions.
Apparently marrying a billionaire erased your résumé faster than any scandal.
“They’re doing it intentionally,” I said.
Graham looked up from his laptop.
“What?”
“The coverage.”
“Obviously.”
“No. The framing.”
I pointed toward the silent television.
“They’re not only accusing me of stealing. They’re making me look stupid.”
Caroline paused.
I continued.
“If I’m a competent acquisitions director who uncovered suspicious transfers, people may ask what I found. But if I’m a gold-digging employee who seduced my boss and stole files—”
“They stop listening,” Graham finished.
“Yes.”
Caroline leaned back.
“Conrad understands narrative.”
“So we change it.”
Graham’s gaze moved to me.
“How?”
“We don’t defend the marriage.”
Everyone went silent.
Caroline frowned.
“Explain.”
“If we spend the day proving the marriage wasn’t romantic, we sound guilty.”
“It wasn’t romantic,” Graham said.
For the third time that morning, those words irritated me.
I ignored that.
“So we don’t discuss it.”
Caroline nodded slowly.
“You want to redirect to the data breach.”
“Yes. Somebody compromised a Reed Global employee, entered her hotel room, stole confidential files, falsified surveillance footage, and attempted to use her credentials. That’s the story.”
“You’re the employee.”
“Exactly.”
“And your new husband happens to own the company.”
“CEO.”
Graham’s mouth twitched.
“Sorry,” I said. “Did I diminish your kingdom?”
“Considerably.”
Caroline stared between us.
“This marriage may be more dangerous than Conrad.”
Marcus walked in.
“We found something.”
He placed photographs on the table.
Hotel surveillance stills.
The gray-suited man.
Daniel Cross.
“The facial match is ninety-six percent,” Marcus said.
“So he survived,” I replied.
Graham studied the image.
“No.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw Daniel’s body.”
“Could it have been misidentified?”
“I attended the private identification.”
“Then twin?”
“No.”
“Brother?”
“No.”
Marcus put down another photograph.
“This was taken four years ago.”
It showed Daniel outside Reed Global headquarters.
His face was thinner.
Same eyes.
Same jaw.
Same silver watch.
“The watch,” I said.
Graham looked.
“What?”
“He wore the same watch last night.”
Marcus zoomed in.
It was unusual.
Vintage.
Square face.
Dark band.
“People replace watches,” Caroline said.
“But why preserve the exact detail if you’re impersonating a dead man?”
Nobody answered.
The cybersecurity analyst interrupted.
“We recovered part of the intrusion path.”
“From my account?”
“Yes.”
He turned his laptop around.
“The attacker didn’t steal your password.”
“How did they get in?”
“They cloned your authentication session.”
“From my laptop?”
“No.”
He pulled up another record.
“From your phone.”
I looked down at it.
“My phone was with me.”
“Most of the night?”
I thought.
Dinner.
Elevator.
Room.
Suite.
Then the chapel.
“Yes.”
Graham’s eyes narrowed.
“Except during the toast.”
I turned.
“What?”
“You left it charging near the bar.”
Memory surfaced.
He was right.
For maybe twenty minutes.
“Who was near it?”
Half the executive team.
Waiters.
Clients.
Board representatives.
Conrad.
My stomach sank.
“Everyone.”
The analyst nodded.
“Someone only needed physical access for approximately forty seconds.”
Caroline folded her hands.
“That means this operation started before the break-in.”
“Long before,” I said.
I picked up the trust documents.
“The acceleration clause was planted twelve years ago.”
“Not planted,” Graham corrected. “Preserved.”
“Same result.”
My phone buzzed.
Blocked number again.
Midnight.
Come alone.
The photograph of my silver pendant remained on screen.
I looked at Graham.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I know your face.”
That stopped him.
“Apparently marriage gave me a new skill.”
Caroline looked unimpressed.
“If the sender truly possesses Avery’s drive, we need it.”
Graham turned on her.
“She is not attending that meeting.”
“I didn’t say she should.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I’m a lawyer. I think many things I don’t say.”
“Caroline.”
She sighed.
“We need an alternative.”
Marcus nodded.
“We track the sender.”
“Can you?”
“Maybe.”
I stared at the pendant photograph.
Something bothered me.
“Zoom in.”
Marcus did.
The silver pendant lay on a black surface.
Behind it, slightly blurred, was a receipt.
“Closer.”
Numbers appeared.
12:17.
A logo.
A partial word.
EMBER.
I knew it.
“Ember Room.”
Graham turned.
“What?”
“It’s a private restaurant inside the Solaris.”
Caroline frowned.
“How do you know?”
“The Southwest Transit team had dinner there six months ago.”
I enlarged the image.
A small symbol appeared near the receipt.
A stylized R.
Reed Global used that symbol internally for executive hospitality expenses.
“That receipt is company-paid.”
Graham became still.
“Which executive?”
“Find the expense.”
Caroline contacted finance.
Ten minutes later, we had it.
An Ember Room charge from the previous evening.
Paid with a Reed Global executive hospitality account.
Authorized by—
My stomach dropped.
“Thomas Reed.”
Graham stared at the name.
His cousin.
Conrad’s son.
Thomas served as Reed Global’s chief strategy officer.
He had been at dinner last night.
He had toasted Graham.
He had hugged me after the acquisition closed.
And he had spent years publicly insisting family disagreements were exaggerated.
“Where is Thomas?” Graham asked.
Marcus checked.
“His hotel room is empty.”
“Phone?”
“Off.”
“Flight?”
“No record.”
Caroline leaned toward us.
“This is not enough to accuse him.”
“It’s enough to find him,” Graham said.
I remembered something else.
At dinner Thomas had asked me about the acquisition accounting.
Casually.
He’d said, “Still finding ghosts in the numbers?”
I assumed he was joking.
“What did Thomas know about my audit work?”
Graham looked at me.
“He shouldn’t have known anything.”
“He did.”
“What did he say?”
I told him.
Graham’s expression turned murderous.
Then Caroline’s phone chimed.
She read something.
“Oh, hell.”
“What?”
“Conrad called an emergency board meeting.”
“When?”
“Ten a.m.”
“That’s ninety minutes.”
“He’s asking the board to suspend Graham.”
I stared.
“On what grounds?”
“Conflict of interest, breach of fiduciary duty, inappropriate relationship with a subordinate, and obstruction of the investigation into you.”
Graham leaned back.
There it was.
The second attack.
The trust had failed.
So Conrad would use the board.
“What happens if they suspend you?”
“Conrad becomes interim chair,” Graham said.
“And the trust?”
“Control remains with my branch, but operational authority shifts.”
“He could destroy evidence.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the clock.
“We need proof before ten.”
Caroline shook her head.
“We won’t get enough.”
“Then we need doubt.”
Graham looked at me.
“You’re not attending.”
“What?”
“The board meeting.”
“Why?”
“You’re the subject of their investigation.”
“Exactly.”
“Avery.”
“If I stay hidden, Conrad controls the narrative.”
“You may expose yourself legally.”
“Caroline?”
She hesitated.
“I dislike agreeing with reckless decisions.”
“But?”
“But strategically, appearance matters.”
Graham looked betrayed.
“Thank you,” I said.
She raised a finger.
“I am not recommending testimony. I’m saying walking into that room may prevent the board from imagining you as some faceless criminal.”
“Good.”
Graham stared at me.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“I am.”
“You are not.”
I leaned forward.
“You told me last night I’m the only person who can stop them.”
His expression changed.
“Then stop treating me like somebody who needs to be hidden.”
For several seconds we simply stared at each other.
Finally he said, “You stay beside me.”
“Agreed.”
“You don’t answer anything Caroline tells you not to.”
“Fine.”
“You don’t leave with anyone.”
“Graham.”
“Agree.”
I sighed.
“I agree.”
Something eased in him.
Too much.
That was when I realized this wasn’t only about security.
He was afraid.
For me.
The discovery should have made me uncomfortable.
Instead warmth flickered somewhere inconvenient.
I ignored it.
At 9:26, we left the hotel.
By 9:51, we entered Reed Global’s temporary Las Vegas executive offices.
Employees stopped talking when we passed.
Phones appeared.
Whispers followed.
I held my head high.
Graham walked beside me, not ahead.
That mattered.
At the boardroom doors, Caroline stopped us.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
She handed Graham a document.
His expression changed as he read.
“What is it?” I asked.
He gave it to me.
It was a copy of my employment agreement.
A clause had been highlighted.
PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS WITH EXECUTIVE MANAGEMENT MUST BE DISCLOSED.
I looked up.
“We didn’t have a relationship.”
“Conrad claims you did.”
“Based on what?”
Caroline handed me another page.
Email printouts.
Messages between Graham and me.
Except I had never sent them.
I can’t keep pretending this is only work.
Another.
Tonight after dinner. Same place.
Another supposedly from Graham.
Once the deal closes, we won’t have to hide.
I felt physically ill.
“These are fake.”
“We know,” Caroline said.
“Can we prove it?”
“Not before the meeting.”
The boardroom doors opened.
Conrad Reed stood inside.
Silver-haired.
Elegant.
Smiling.
He looked nothing like a villain.
That was probably why he had survived so long.
“Avery,” he said warmly.
“Or should I say Mrs. Reed?”
Graham stepped forward.
Conrad’s smile widened.
“You always did move quickly, nephew.”
Then his eyes returned to me.
“I’m sorry about the criminal investigation.”
My pulse hammered.
“There isn’t one.”
“Oh?”
He lifted his phone.
A news alert appeared.
FEDERAL AUTHORITIES REQUEST RECORDS IN REED GLOBAL DATA THEFT CASE
The room tilted.
Conrad lowered the phone.
“Apparently there is now.”
Then he leaned slightly closer.
Only enough for me to hear.
“You should have given us the drive when you had the chance.”
I stopped breathing.
Graham hadn’t heard.
Caroline hadn’t heard.
Only me.
Conrad smiled and turned away.
That single sentence changed everything.
Because Conrad Reed had just admitted he knew about the missing drive.
And he had done it inside a room filled with the people who might remove Graham from power.
Now I only had to find a way to make him say it again.
May you like
Loud enough for everyone to hear.
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