“That’s not—”
“The audit identified significant financial irregularities in multiple Collins-connected employee records.”
His breathing changed.
“Daniel, listen—”
“David and Marcus’s files are being reviewed for potential referral. The documentation is secured with legal counsel and a forensic accountant.”
“Just let me explain.”
“There’s something else.”
I looked at the copy of Robert’s message on my monitor.
“The notice regarding the property on Ashwood Lane has been sent to Clare through her attorney. The deed is registered to one of my LLCs. Robert will handle everything from here.”
Martin’s voice had gone quiet.
“Daniel.”
“Merry Christmas, Martin.”
I ended the call.
Then I blocked the number.
My phone began lighting up almost immediately.
Twelve notifications.
Then twenty.
Thirty-one.
Forty-seven.
Calls and messages came from cousins, uncles, numbers I recognized, and numbers I did not.
I turned the phone facedown.
The fourteen files supported by audit findings would remain cause-based employment matters.
The other thirty-three employees had no fraud findings. Their employment separation was handled differently, with severance based on service and positive references.
I was angry.
I was not willing to call innocent people criminals because they shared a family connection with people who had crossed a line.
When I turned my phone over again, one message caught my attention.
It had arrived at 7:14 that morning, before the calls started.
The number was unfamiliar.
The message said:
We need to talk. I know what Clare did before the divorce papers. All of it.
I stared at the screen.
Every instinct I had developed in business told me not to respond impulsively.
So I forwarded the message to Robert.
He called eight minutes later.
“Do you know the number?”
“No.”
“Local area code?”
“Yes.”
“Give me some time.”
He called back forty-five minutes later.
The number belonged to Karen Delaney.
Forty-four years old.
Former paralegal at Gregory Foss’s law firm.
She had worked there for six years.
She had resigned eleven days earlier.
I called her.
She answered immediately.
“Mr. Whitaker.”
Her voice was careful.
“Ms. Delaney.”