Chapter 7 - Someone Inside My Company
“Stay down!”
Detective Cole shoved me behind the marble console as two officers drew their weapons.
The house plunged into chaos.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Red.
Dim.
Unnatural.
Another crash came from upstairs.
Then footsteps.
Fast.
Running.
Cole pointed toward the kitchen.
“Adrianna, pantry. Now.”
I moved.
Maggie grabbed my sleeve.
“Don’t leave me!”
An officer pulled her away.
“Ma’am, stay against the wall.”
I reached the pantry just as something shattered in the hallway.
Then came shouting.
“Police! Stop!”
Heavy footsteps thundered across the second floor.
A side door alarm chirped.
Thirty seconds later, everything went quiet.
Those thirty seconds felt longer than the previous nine years.
Detective Cole appeared.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Maggie?”
An officer answered.
“Fine.”
“What happened?”
“Someone entered through Owen’s bedroom window.”
My blood turned cold.
“Why his room?”
“We don’t know.”
They had cut power at an exterior utility panel.
Disabled part of the alarm.
Used a ladder to reach the second floor.
Whoever it was knew exactly where to go.
And exactly how my security system worked.
The intruder escaped across the rear lawn before officers could catch him.
But he left something behind.
A backpack.
Inside were latex gloves.
A screwdriver.
Zip ties.
A small bottle of accelerant.
And a prepaid phone.
The phone contained one unsent text.
ROOM CLEAR. READY TO BURN.
I stared at Detective Cole.
“They were going to burn Owen’s room?”
“Possibly more than that.”
“Why?”
“Evidence.”
The hidden camera.
Anything David had left behind.
Anything linking him to years of surveillance.
I turned toward Maggie.
She sat in the breakfast room wrapped in a blanket.
“Who inside my company approached David?”
She shook her head.
“Take me somewhere safe.”
“Name.”
“Not here.”
“Maggie.”
“Do you understand? Whoever sent that person knows I’m here.”
Cole intervened.
“We’ll take her downtown.”
I stepped forward.
“She gives me the name first.”
Maggie looked at me.
For once, I saw something I had never seen in her before.
Genuine fear.
“Charles Benton.”
I stopped.
Our chief financial officer.
Charles had worked for my father for twenty-two years.
He had taught me how to read project cash-flow reports.
He sent Owen birthday gifts.
“No.”
Maggie nodded.
“He approached David eighteen months ago.”
“For what?”
“He said the company could be worth twice as much if pieces of it were sold.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if the sale is private.”
My mind started racing.
Solomon Construction owned valuable land, equipment, and long-term municipal contracts.
If someone gained control and broke the company apart, the assets could be worth more than the operating business.
“You’re saying Charles wanted to dismantle Solomon Construction.”
“Yes.”
“Why David?”
“Because you would never agree.”
That was true.
My father had spent his life building the company.
I would never liquidate it for a quick fortune.
Maggie continued.
“Charles told David he deserved more. He said everyone treated him like Adrianna Solomon’s husband instead of a businessman.”
My stomach twisted.
David’s resentment suddenly made more sense.
Every fundraiser where someone asked what I did before asking him.
Every dinner where he joked about being “Mr. Adrianna.”
Every time I had told him I was proud of him and watched his smile become tight.
I had mistaken wounded pride for humor.
“He wanted my chair.”
Maggie nodded.
“He wanted your life.”
The next morning, I went to the office with Detective Cole’s objections ringing in my ears.
“You don’t confront him.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t let him know Maggie talked.”
“I understand.”
“Adrianna.”
I looked at her.
“You are not investigating this yourself.”
“No.”
But I needed to see Charles.
He was in the executive conference room when I arrived.
Gray-haired.
Perfect tie.
Reading glasses low on his nose.
The same man who had congratulated me when I became president.
He smiled.
“There she is.”
I forced myself to smile back.
“Morning, Charles.”
“I heard about the mess with David.”
“People talk quickly.”
“In this building? Faster than concrete dries.”
Normally I would have laughed.
Instead, I sat across from him.
“Have the banks frozen anything?”
“Operationally, we’re stable.”
“Good.”
He leaned back.
“You look tired.”
There it was.
The language David had used.
The language Dr. Vale used in the false declaration.
Tired.
Overworked.
Unstable.
I folded my hands.
“I’ve had a complicated weekend.”
Charles sighed sympathetically.
“Maybe you should take some time away.”
My skin prickled.
“Why?”
“Let the senior team handle things.”
“Who?”
“Rachel. Me. Operations.”
“You?”
He smiled.
“I have been here almost as long as your father was.”
Almost.
But not quite.
“My father trusted you.”
Charles looked toward the windows.
“Your father was a remarkable man.”
“He was.”
“He also understood when emotion had to give way to business.”
I watched him carefully.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
He removed his glasses.
“Solomon Construction is valuable because of its assets. Not because of nostalgia.”
There it was.
“You think we should sell.”
“I think every responsible executive considers options.”
“Break the company apart?”
His face changed slightly.
“Who told you that?”
I smiled.
“No one.”
He studied me.
For three seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Charles smiled too.
But it no longer reached his eyes.
“You’re testing me.”
“Should I?”
His phone buzzed.
He glanced down.
That glance told me more than his answer.
The notification preview showed only six words.
SHE KNOWS. GET OUT OF THERE.
Charles stood.
“I have another meeting.”
“So soon?”
“I forgot about it.”
He reached for his jacket.
I stood as well.
“Charles.”
He stopped.
“My father trusted you.”
His back remained toward me.
“That was his weakness.”
Then he turned.
The mask was gone.
“You have no idea what that company could be worth if you stopped treating it like a family heirloom.”
“It employs six hundred people.”
“And?”
I stared at him.
He shrugged.
“They’ll find other jobs.”
“You were going to help David kill me for a liquidation fee?”
His face went completely still.
I had gone too far.
I saw it immediately.
Charles stepped toward me.
“Be careful what you accuse people of.”
The conference-room door opened.
Detective Cole stood outside.
Charles looked at her.
Then at me.
His expression became calm again.
“Am I under arrest?”
Cole answered.
“Not yet.”
He laughed.
“You people really enjoy saying that.”
He walked past her.
I watched him enter the elevator.
Cole turned to me.
“What did I say about confronting him?”
“I didn’t plan to.”
“That sentence is never comforting.”
Before I could answer, Rachel rushed toward us.
“Adrianna.”
“What?”
She held her phone.
“Something’s happening with the company accounts.”
We hurried into my office.
Three operating accounts had received simultaneous transfer requests.
Twenty-six million dollars.
Destination accounts overseas.
“Can they go through?” I asked.
Rachel shook her head.
“Bank fraud controls stopped two.”
“And the third?”
Her face went pale.
“Already cleared.”
“How much?”
“Eight-point-four million.”
I stared at the screen.
Then Detective Cole’s phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed.
“When?”
She listened.
“Seal the airport.”
She hung up.
“What happened?”
“Charles Benton’s car was just found abandoned near the interstate.”
“Where is he?”
“We don’t know.”
My computer chimed.
A new email appeared.
No subject.
No sender name.
Only one sentence.
YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE CAPSULES.
May you like
Attached was a live photograph.
Owen sitting inside a car.
