Chapter 6 - The Reporter at the Door
Peter Vale arrived at Miranda’s townhouse at 8:07 Monday morning.
He did not knock.
Bellmont security stopped him halfway up the front steps.
Miranda watched through the window while two officers checked his identification.
Adrien came downstairs buttoning his shirt cuffs.
“Reporter?”
“Yes.”
“Peter Vale.”
His expression sharpened.
“That’s the journalist connected to Candace’s publicist.”
Miranda turned.
“You already know that?”
“Security brief at six.”
“Do you people ever sleep?”
“Diplomatic families outsource sleep.”
She almost smiled.
Then Peter looked directly toward the window.
He knew she was there.
Miranda made a decision.
“I’ll speak to him.”
Adrien frowned.
“With counsel present.”
“I’m not under investigation.”
“No. But he’s here because he wants something.”
“So do I.”
“What?”
“Answers.”
Ten minutes later, Peter sat across from Miranda in the townhouse library.
He was younger than she expected, maybe thirty-eight, with dark circles under his eyes and a messenger bag that looked permanently overloaded.
Adrien remained in the room.
Peter noticed.
“Mr. Calloway.”
“Mr. Vale.”
“I assume everything I say is being recorded.”
Adrien answered, “Assume wisely.”
Peter looked back at Miranda.
“I’m not here about your marriage.”
“Then why were you asking Candace’s publicist about Julian?”
“Because personal behavior sometimes reveals business behavior.”
“That sounds conveniently philosophical.”
“It sells newspapers.”
Miranda folded her hands.
“Why Santoro?”
Peter’s expression barely changed.
So the anonymous sender had contacted him too.
She knew immediately.
“You received something,” he said.
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“Neither was your question.”
Adrien leaned back, almost amused.
Peter sighed.
“Santoro Maritime subcontracted on two Hayes Meridian projects in southern Europe. They were accused of wage theft, falsifying safety inspections, and bribing municipal officials.”
“Accused by whom?”
“Workers. Local investigators. Eventually, a regional prosecutor.”
“Was Hayes Meridian charged?”
“No.”
“Then why investigate Julian?”
“Because internal emails suggest Hayes Meridian executives knew Santoro had compliance problems before renewing its contract.”
Miranda felt her throat tighten.
“Julian?”
“I don’t know.”
That surprised her.
Peter continued.
“I have evidence reaching senior management, but nothing proving Julian personally knew about bribery.”
Adrien spoke.
“What do you want from Miranda?”
Peter glanced at him.
“To know whether she ever saw documents or heard conversations during the marriage.”
Miranda answered immediately.
“I’m not going through eight years of private marital conversations so you can build a headline.”
“I’m asking about potential corporate misconduct.”
“And I’m telling you I’m not your shortcut.”
Peter nodded.
Fair enough.
Then he reached into his bag.
Adrien’s security officer moved instantly.
Peter froze.
“Paper.”
He slowly removed an envelope.
Inside were photocopies.
One page contained expense authorizations.
Another showed email chains.
Miranda saw Michael Trent’s name.
Then another.
J. HAYES.
Julian.
Her stomach tightened.
Peter tapped the document.
“This approval covered eighteen million dollars in accelerated contractor payments.”
“Approval is not proof he knew what Santoro did.”
“No.”
Peter looked impressed.
“That’s exactly the distinction Julian’s lawyers will make.”
Miranda stared at the date.
January 18.
She remembered that week.
Julian had been in London.
They had fought before he left because Miranda wanted him home for a fertility appointment.
He had told her the company could not stop because she had decided that particular Tuesday mattered.
She had gone alone.
Later, doctors told her their chances of conceiving naturally were low.
Julian returned three days later and asked whether she had remembered to pick up his dry cleaning.
She had never forgiven him.
But even now, she could not turn that pain into evidence.
“I don’t know what he knew.”
Peter watched her carefully.
“You could hurt him.”
Miranda looked up.
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to?”
“That disappoints you?”
“It surprises me.”
“It shouldn’t.”
She slid the papers back.
“I want the truth. Not revenge wearing respectable clothes.”
Peter studied her for several seconds.
Then he stood.
At the door, he paused.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“The anonymous source who contacted me claimed someone inside Hayes Meridian is destroying records.”
Adrien’s expression changed.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Peter looked at Miranda.
“But if it’s true, the Bellmont bid is the least of Julian Hayes’s problems.”
Across town, Julian was asking the same question.
“Who deleted them?”
Michael Trent stood in the executive server room with two IT directors.
“No one is admitting it.”
“How many files?”
“Three hundred and fourteen.”
Julian felt rage building.
“Backups?”
“Some.”
“Some?”
“One archive was corrupted.”
“Accidentally?”
No one answered.
Julian looked at Michael.
“Who had access?”
“Senior legal. Compliance. IT administrators.”
“And my office?”
“Your credentials technically have access.”
Julian stared at him.
“I didn’t delete anything.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because you would have called someone and demanded they delete it for you.”
Julian almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Michael’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
Julian waited.
Michael ended the call slowly.
“The Justice Department contacted outside counsel.”
Julian went still.
“About what?”
“Santoro.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Before Julian could respond, another executive entered.
“Mr. Hayes, there’s a woman downstairs insisting on speaking with you.”
“Not now.”
“She says her husband died on a Santoro worksite.”
Julian froze.
“What?”
“She came from Portugal.”
Michael whispered, “How did she get in?”
The executive swallowed.
“She says someone bought her ticket.”
“Who?”
“She won’t say.”
Julian stared toward the hallway.
For the first time in years, the billionaire felt something he could not purchase his way out of.
May you like
Uncertainty.
And downstairs, a widow was waiting.
