Chapter 2 - TWENTY-SEVEN PEOPLE WHO WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO COMPLAIN
By dinner, I knew Annie wasn’t an isolated case.
That made me angrier.
One mistake could be incompetence.
Twenty-seven was a system.
Samuel stood in my private office looking like someone had personally insulted him.
“I approved Carter’s prosthetic.”
“I know.”
“She should have received the replacement weeks ago.”
“She didn’t.”
He looked toward the window.
“Then I failed her.”
“No.”
I pushed the report toward him.
“Someone used your approval and reversed it.”
Samuel read the list.
His jaw tightened.
Three employees had resigned after their requests were denied.
One security guard had been working with a damaged knee brace.
A gardener postponed shoulder surgery because his leave request mysteriously disappeared.
A cook had paid for hearing aids herself.
And Annie had apparently decided that a prosthetic held together through stubbornness and improvisation was good enough because she needed her paycheck.
“Why didn’t anyone complain to me?” I asked.
Samuel gave me a long look.
“With respect, Mr. Graves, employees don’t usually call billionaires when HR denies a medical request.”
That landed exactly where it should.
My name is Julian Graves.
I had inherited part of my fortune and multiplied the rest through logistics, medical technology, and commercial real estate.
I liked efficient systems.
I trusted reports.
Dashboards.
Audits.
Chains of responsibility.
Apparently I had forgotten one problem with systems.
People could manipulate them.
I found Annie in the pantry labeling inventory containers.
“Annie.”
She nearly dropped a jar.
“Mr. Graves.”
“You don’t need to look terrified.”
“I’m not terrified.”
“You’re holding cinnamon like a weapon.”
She slowly lowered it.
Fair point.
I gestured toward a chair.
“Sit.”
Her expression changed.
“Am I fired?”
“No.”
“Did I break something?”
“No.”
“Then this is going better than expected.”
I almost smiled.
“Why didn’t you appeal the prosthetic denial?”
Her humor vanished.
“I did.”
My pulse changed.
“When?”
“Twice.”
“Do you have copies?”
“Yes.”
Of course she did.
Annie was the kind of person who probably saved receipts for batteries.
She pulled out her phone.
Two emails.
Both sent to HR.
Both acknowledged automatically.
Neither answered.
“Why didn’t you tell Samuel?”
“I didn’t want him getting blamed.”
“For what?”
She glanced down at her leg.
“For hiring me.”
That answer made no sense.
“Why would he be blamed for hiring you?”
Annie looked uncomfortable.
“Because somebody told me I was already expensive enough.”
My stomach hardened.
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“Ms. Graves.”
Victoria.
“When?”
“During orientation.”
I went completely still.
“She met you during orientation?”
Annie nodded.
“Only for a minute.”
“What did she say exactly?”
Annie looked embarrassed now.
“She saw the prosthetic and asked if I understood this was a working estate, not a rehabilitation program.”
Something cold moved through me.
“And Samuel heard that?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“One person.”
“Who?”
Annie looked toward the hallway.
“Mr. Price.”
Daniel.
I turned.
He had been standing behind me.
His face had gone pale.
“I never heard that conversation.”
Annie frowned.
“But you were there.”
“No.”
“Yes, sir.”
Daniel stared at her.
Then she added the detail that changed the entire investigation.
“You gave Ms. Graves the blue folder.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“I wasn’t at the estate that day.”
He pulled out his phone.
May you like
“I was in London.”
Someone had walked through my house pretending to be my right-hand man.
