Chapter 4 - THE PHOTOGRAPH THOMAS NEEDED
I stood.
Not because Thomas wanted me to.
Because I wanted to ruin the photograph.
The photographer motioned toward the stage.
I walked halfway.
Then stopped beside the auctioneer.
He smiled.
“Ms. Woods, would you like to say a few words about the donation?”
Thomas watched.
Larkin stood at the head table.
The room waited.
I took the microphone.
“Actually, yes.”
Thomas’s face changed.
I smiled.
“My name is Penelope Woods.”
Applause.
I continued.
“And I have never owned P. Woods Consulting.”
Silence.
The photographer lowered his camera.
Thomas stood.
The auctioneer froze.
I looked around the ballroom.
“If any person in this room has conducted business with that company believing I authorized it, please preserve your records.”
Now everyone was watching Thomas.
Good.
I continued:
“My identity has apparently been used without my consent.”
A murmur spread.
Larkin remained still.
Not stopping me.
That mattered.
Then Thomas approached the stage.
“This is inappropriate.”
I turned.
“You invited me.”
His jaw tightened.
“Get off the stage.”
“No.”
The ballroom became very quiet.
Thomas reached toward the microphone.
Larkin’s voice cut through the room.
“Don’t touch her.”
Everyone stopped.
Thomas looked at his cousin.
“This is internal.”
Larkin stood.
“Then why did you make it public?”
There.
The room shifted.
Thomas’s smile vanished.
He looked at me.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
I lowered the microphone.
“Probably.”
Then:
“But I know you used my authentication code.”
His face changed.
That was enough.
Not confession.
Recognition.
He walked away.
Not out.
Toward a side corridor.
Larkin followed.
I almost did too.
Then Vivienne grabbed my arm.
“Wait.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She glanced toward the room.
“You need to know something before you accuse Thomas of everything.”
“What?”
“P. Woods existed before he had access to you.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
She opened old emails on her phone.
First contact from P. Woods Consulting:
Fourteen months ago.
Thomas became head of administrative operations eleven months ago.
Three-month gap.
“Who contacted you?”
“Someone calling himself Daniel.”
“Last name?”
“Woods.”
My pulse changed.
“I don’t have a Daniel Woods.”
“He claimed to be your brother.”
“I’m an only child.”
Vivienne went pale.
Then she showed me a photograph attached to the original introduction email.
A man.
Late thirties.
Dark hair.
Standing outside one of Larkin’s warehouses.
I knew him.
Not from family.
From work.
His name was Daniel Vale.
Former compliance director.
He disappeared from the company fourteen months earlier.
Official explanation:
Resigned.
Rumor:
Stole money.
Larkin hated his name.
Then I remembered something else.
Daniel Vale had trained me during my first month.
He taught me which accounts never to question.
He once told me:
“If anything ever looks too clean here, that’s when you should be afraid.”
I thought he was joking.
Apparently not.
Vivienne whispered:
“Daniel created P. Woods.”
“Why use me?”
“I don’t know.”
Then my phone buzzed.
New email.
Sender:
DVALE@PROTON…
Subject:
YOU FINALLY STOPPED HIDING.
My hands went cold.
I opened it.
Penelope,
If you’re reading this, Thomas pushed too far.
P. Woods was originally created to protect you.
Then he found it.
My heart pounded.
Protect me?
From what?
The email continued.
The twenty-two million wasn’t stolen from Larkin.
May you like
It was stolen from someone far more dangerous.
And your name was the only place I could hide it where nobody would look.
