Chapter 6 - Paisley’s Secret
I did not go alone.
I wasn’t foolish enough for that anymore.
At 7:55 the next morning, I entered the East Ninth Street parking garage wearing jeans, a black coat, and shoes I could run in.
Charles’s private security team was positioned two levels above and below me.
Dad objected to the entire plan.
Strongly.
But whoever sent the photograph knew something we needed.
At exactly eight, a gray Honda pulled into the space across from me.
A man stepped out.
Late thirties.
Nervous.
I recognized him from Conway Development holiday parties.
Evan Brooks.
Assistant controller.
“Mrs. Conway?”
“Phoebe.”
He glanced around.
“Did you come alone?”
“Yes.”
Technically, I did.
The guards were not with me.
They were nearby.
Evan swallowed.
“I don’t have much time.”
“What do you know?”
He handed me a flash drive.
“Everything I could copy.”
“About Paisley?”
“About all of them.”
My stomach tightened.
“Spencer too?”
He looked away.
That was answer enough.
“What happened?”
Evan leaned against the car.
“Six months ago, Gregory Vale asked me to create a separate ledger for redevelopment acquisition expenses.”
“The CFO.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said lenders needed cleaner reporting.”
“Cleaner?”
“Different.”
I felt sick.
“And Spencer approved it?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
Evan nodded.
“Spencer knew some costs were being shifted between projects. I don’t think he knew about the offshore transfers.”
“You’re defending him.”
“I’m telling you what I saw.”
“Did he forge my signature?”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“You’re sure?”
“I processed the guaranty file.”
“Who uploaded it?”
“Paisley.”
My heartbeat changed.
“She didn’t work for Conway.”
“Officially, no.”
“What does that mean?”
Evan looked around again.
“She had access to Gregory’s credentials.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
A vehicle entered the garage.
Evan jumped.
It continued toward another level.
He exhaled.
“You need to understand something. Paisley didn’t meet Spencer because she liked him.”
“How did they meet?”
“Crane Urban Partners.”
The photograph.
“Mitchell Crane introduced them?”
“Not directly.”
“Then how?”
Evan rubbed his face.
“Paisley consulted for a lobbying firm Crane used. She started appearing at industry events. Spencer thought she was connected.”
I laughed bitterly.
“She was.”
“Just not the way he thought.”
My husband had believed he was sophisticated enough to enter a world I supposedly could not understand.
Instead, he had been seduced by someone playing him.
Again, I felt no sympathy.
Only clarity.
“What was Crane’s goal?”
“The Riverfront District.”
That was Spencer’s largest project.
Nearly eighty acres of former industrial property along the Cuyahoga.
If completed, it would be worth more than a billion dollars.
“Crane wants the land.”
Evan nodded.
“If Conway defaults, several parcels become vulnerable to foreclosure. Crane has options to purchase debt from two lenders.”
“So he drives Spencer toward collapse, then buys the assets cheaply.”
“Yes.”
“And Paisley transfers cash out to accelerate it.”
“That’s what I think.”
“What about Spencer’s involvement?”
Evan hesitated.
“Three months ago, he realized something was wrong.”
“How?”
“The cash balance.”
“And?”
“He confronted Gregory.”
“What happened?”
“Gregory told him the Apex financing would cover everything.”
“And Spencer accepted that?”
“At first.”
“At first again.”
Evan looked ashamed.
“Then Spencer ordered me to reconcile the books privately.”
My stomach twisted.
“He was investigating?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he tell anyone?”
“Because if lenders found out before Apex approved financing, the company would collapse.”
There it was.
Spencer had discovered possible fraud.
And instead of reporting it, he concealed it to save his deal.
Maybe he had not stolen the money.
But he had protected the lie.
That distinction mattered legally.
Emotionally, much less.
“Why tell me now?”
Evan looked directly at me.
“Because yesterday Gregory told everyone to delete archived invoices.”
“Did they?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a wife and two kids.”
His voice shook.
“I’m not going to prison for rich people.”
Fair enough.
I put the flash drive in my pocket.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
He looked terrified now.
“Paisley wasn’t just sleeping with Spencer.”
I waited.
“She was sleeping with Gregory too.”
For a second, even I couldn’t speak.
“What?”
“I saw them together twice.”
“Does Spencer know?”
“I doubt it.”
I thought about Paisley laughing in the ballroom.
You really thought this was about you?
Maybe she meant exactly that.
Spencer was never the prize.
He was access.
Before I could ask another question, Evan’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His face drained.
“I have to go.”
“Evan—”
“If anyone asks, you never saw me.”
He got into the Honda and drove away.
Twenty minutes later, Charles and I were reviewing the flash drive at Harrell Capital.
Invoices.
Internal emails.
Bank transfers.
Password logs.
One email mattered more than the rest.
FROM: GREGORY VALE
TO: PAISLEY DALEY
Once S signs the revised facility and P’s property is attached, Crane can trigger phase two.
P.
Phoebe.
My property.
Another email followed.
PAISLEY:
He still thinks she has nothing. He’ll sign anything if I tell him Apex expects it.
I stared at the screen.
Paisley knew who I was.
She knew my trust held assets.
She knew Spencer didn’t.
“Charles.”
He leaned closer.
“She researched you.”
“More than Spencer ever did.”
That realization was almost absurd.
My husband’s mistress had taken my identity more seriously than my husband.
Charles continued scrolling.
Then he froze.
“What?”
“This.”
A PDF agreement.
Crane Urban Partners.
Daley Strategic Solutions.
Performance bonus: $5 million upon successful acquisition of specified Riverfront District assets following default, distressed sale, or receivership of Conway Development.
I whispered, “She was paid to destroy him.”
“Yes.”
“But Spencer let her inside.”
“Yes.”
“And Gregory helped.”
“Almost certainly.”
Then Charles opened the attachment list.
One file had a familiar name.
PHOEBE_CONWAY_GUARANTY_FINAL.
Metadata showed the document had been created on Paisley’s laptop.
My signature was digitally inserted.
There it was.
Proof.
Relief and rage hit me simultaneously.
Spencer had not forged my name.
But his mistress had.
And his arrogance had given her the opportunity.
My phone rang.
Spencer.
I declined.
He called again.
Declined.
Then a voicemail appeared.
Against my better judgment, I played it.
“Phoebe, please call me. Paisley disappeared after questioning. Gregory isn’t answering. The bank froze our revolving credit line this morning. I know you hate me, and you have every right to, but something is happening. I think they’re trying to force the company into default before Monday.”
I stared at the phone.
Charles watched me.
“He sounds scared.”
“He should be.”
Another message arrived.
Not from Spencer.
From Paisley.
A photograph.
Spencer leaving a downtown office at night.
Then another photograph.
Spencer kissing her outside a restaurant.
Then one final message:
You think I ruined your marriage?
Ask Spencer what he promised me the night he decided to leave you.
My stomach dropped.
A voice recording followed.
I pressed play.
Spencer’s voice filled the room.
Clear.
Unmistakable.
“Once Apex approves the money, I’ll divorce Phoebe. Then everything changes.”
Paisley laughed.
“And what about the house?”
Spencer answered.
“She thinks it’s hers.”
My hand began trembling.
May you like
Then he said the words that killed the last remaining illusion I had about our marriage.
“By the time she understands what I’ve done, she won’t have enough left to fight me.”
