Chapter 2 - The Man Who Thought I Was the Receptionist
Tyler stared at the red folder like it contained a death sentence.
“What’s that?”
I didn’t answer immediately.
One of the things I had learned in corporate negotiations was that silence frightened people more effectively than shouting ever could.
Tyler shifted his weight.
“Is that about my company?”
“You requested twenty-four million dollars.”
“It’s temporary financing.”
“Yes.”
“We’re waiting on receivables.”
“I read your application.”
His jaw tightened.
“Then you know everything’s fine.”
“No.”
The word landed softly.
Tyler blinked.
“What?”
“I know everything you submitted says everything is fine.”
His nostrils flared.
“Is there a difference?”
“There usually is.”
Jenna quietly closed the office door.
Tyler noticed.
For the first time, he looked nervous.
I turned the application around.
“Kane Urban Development reported twenty-eight million in accounts receivable.”
“That’s correct.”
“From three projects.”
“Yes.”
“Two of those developers dispute the balances.”
His eyes flashed.
“That happens constantly in construction.”
“And the third developer filed for bankruptcy eleven days ago.”
Silence.
Tyler swallowed.
I continued.
“Which means almost eighteen million dollars of the receivables you listed as current assets may not be collectible.”
“They will be.”
“Maybe.”
“They will.”
“You’re asking Falcon Ridge to lend against them today.”
He leaned toward me.
“This is personal, isn’t it?”
I almost smiled.
There it was.
When facts became uncomfortable, make it emotional.
“You think because Vanessa didn’t invite you—”
I raised one hand.
“This conversation is about Kane Urban Development.”
“You’re angry.”
“I am.”
He paused.
Apparently he hadn’t expected honesty.
“But my anger has nothing to do with whether your company qualifies for financing.”
He scoffed.
“Sure.”
I pushed the red folder toward him.
“You’re welcome to request review by another executive.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
That surprised him.
“Then I want someone else.”
“Fine.”
I reached for the phone.
“However, this risk analysis was prepared by our independent underwriting group before they knew we were related.”
His hand froze.
“They found nine material inconsistencies.”
Tyler went pale again.
“Nine?”
“One involves payroll taxes.”
He said nothing.
“Another involves subcontractor liens.”
Still nothing.
“A third involves invoices submitted to Falcon Ridge that appear to include duplicate equipment charges.”
His face changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
Tiny.
Instantaneous.
But unmistakable.
And I knew.
He knew something.
“What duplicate charges?” he asked too quickly.
I opened the folder.
Tyler stepped closer.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sit down.”
Something in my voice worked.
He sat.
For the next forty minutes, I walked through the issues.
An unpaid structural steel subcontractor.
A workers’ compensation premium listed as current even though the policy had received a cancellation notice.
Equipment rentals billed twice.
A performance bond that might expire before a major construction milestone.
None of it proved fraud.
But together, it painted a picture of a company in serious trouble.
Tyler kept trying to explain.
Every explanation created another question.
Eventually he stopped pretending everything was fine.
“How much do you need?”
“For what?”
“To approve the loan.”
I stared at him.
His face remained completely serious.
“You think this is a negotiation?”
“Everything is a negotiation.”
“No.”
His eyes hardened.
“Come on, Morgan.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re family.”
“That argument apparently didn’t apply yesterday.”
His lips pressed together.
“I didn’t tell your mother to exclude you.”
“Interesting.”
“Vanessa exaggerated.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“So you didn’t call me embarrassing?”
He looked away.
That was answer enough.
I closed the folder.
“The request cannot be approved as submitted.”
He stood abruptly.
“You’re destroying my company.”
“No, Tyler.”
My voice remained calm.
“I’m refusing to use someone else’s money to hide problems you created.”
His face turned red.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I run operations for a firm managing eleven billion dollars in assets.”
His mouth closed.
“You met me twice and decided I was unsuccessful because I didn’t brag.”
“I never said—”
“You explained cap rates to me for forty minutes.”
He looked embarrassed.
Jenna looked delighted.
I continued.
“You told my father women usually misunderstand construction financing.”
His ears reddened.
“And you suggested I give Vanessa my résumé because maybe one of her friends could find me a better job.”
Tyler looked toward the windows.
“I was trying to help.”
“That’s what arrogance usually calls itself.”
He grabbed his application.
I placed my hand over it.
“Leave that.”
“It’s mine.”
“No. It belongs to Falcon Ridge.”
Something inside him finally snapped.
“You smug little—”
The office door opened.
Tyler stopped.
Our Chief Financial Officer, Robert Chen, stood outside.
“Problem?”
Tyler immediately stepped backward.
“No.”
Robert looked at me.
I shook my head.
“All good.”
He nodded and left.
Tyler lowered his voice.
“You can’t do this.”
“I already did.”
“Skyline needs us.”
“Skyline needs a solvent contractor.”
His face tightened.
“If Falcon Ridge pulls our contract, I’m finished.”
That sentence hung between us.
Not my problem.
I could have said it.
A week earlier, maybe I would have.
Instead, I studied him.
“Then tell me the truth.”
His expression flickered.
“What truth?”
“The one missing from your financial statements.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
“Tyler.”
My voice softened.
“Someone at your company moved money.”
His eyes froze.
There.
Confirmation.
I leaned forward.
“Where did it go?”
He stood.
“I’m done here.”
He turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
Without facing me, he said, “You don’t understand what you’re getting involved in.”
I almost laughed.
“This is my company’s project.”
“No.”
He looked over his shoulder.
His expression had changed completely.
The arrogance was gone.
What remained looked disturbingly like fear.
“I mean you don’t understand what you’re getting involved in.”
Then he left.
Jenna waited until the elevator doors closed.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.”
But I did know one thing.
Tyler Kane was terrified.
Not of losing Falcon Ridge’s loan.
Of something else.
Twenty minutes later, my phone rang.
Vanessa.
I answered.
She was crying.
“Morgan?”
“What happened?”
“Tyler came home screaming.”
I stood.
“Vanessa—”
“He said you’re trying to destroy us.”
“That’s not—”
“And then someone called him.”
Her breathing turned shaky.
“He locked himself in the bedroom.”
“Who called?”
“I don’t know.”
A pause.
Then she whispered:
“Morgan, there are two men sitting in a black car across from our apartment.”
May you like
And just like that, Tyler’s financial problems stopped looking like ordinary business failure.
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