Chapter 5 - MELISSA’S LAST FILE
By 10:18 a.m., my apartment had become an interview room.
Claire arrived with another attorney.
The federal agents sat across from me.
Arthur remained in the living room under his own counsel’s advice.
Nobody trusted anybody.
That felt appropriate.
I told the agents about Melissa’s call.
Not everything.
I did not mention the anonymous messages until Claire insisted that withholding them could make things worse.
The agents photographed my phone.
Then one asked:
“Why would Ms. Grant tell you to check a foundation account?”
“I don’t know.”
“You worked in compliance.”
“Yes.”
“You never reviewed it?”
“It wasn’t a company entity.”
“So you didn’t know it existed?”
“No.”
The agent looked unconvinced.
Then Claire’s phone buzzed.
She read the message.
Her eyes widened.
“Atlas still has the October image.”
Relief moved through me.
“Untouched?”
“Hash verified.”
The agent leaned forward.
“What image?”
Claire explained.
A preserved copy of financial and vendor records captured months before the current investigation.
If someone had altered the live system this morning, Atlas could prove it.
The agent immediately requested access.
I almost laughed.
For the first time all morning, something moved in our favor.
Then Atlas called again.
Claire answered.
Her expression changed.
“What do you mean missing?”
My stomach dropped.
She put them on speaker.
The Atlas technician sounded nervous.
“The image exists, but one repository wasn’t included.”
“Which repository?”
“Executive procurement.”
Arthur cursed.
That was the exact area containing Daniel’s approvals.
“Why was it excluded?” I asked.
“It was marked privileged.”
“By whom?”
The technician hesitated.
“A legal administrator.”
“Name.”
“Melissa Grant.”
Silence.
Melissa had excluded the most important folder months before I knew it mattered.
That could mean she was protecting Daniel.
Or preserving something elsewhere.
My phone vibrated.
Email.
Sender: MELISSA.GRANT@—
It was a scheduled message from her personal account.
Subject:
IF I MISS THE INTERVIEW.
Every person in the room went still.
Claire told me not to open it until the agents documented receipt.
Then we opened it together.
The email contained four lines.
Ethan,
If you are reading this, something went wrong.
I was not protecting Daniel.
I was protecting the original file.
The attachment was encrypted.
Password hint:
THE DATE CHARLES STOPPED TRUSTING HIS FAMILY.
Arthur stared at the screen.
“I know the date.”
Everyone looked at him.
“When?”
He whispered:
“March 17.”
“Year?”
“The year before he died.”
Claire entered it.
Wrong.
Arthur looked confused.
Then I saw something.
The wording.
Not the date Charles discovered fraud.
The date he stopped trusting his family.
Family.
I looked at Arthur.
“When did Daniel marry?”
He thought.
“September.”
“His sister?”
“June.”
“Margaret?”
“No idea.”
Then Arthur suddenly went pale.
“Charles changed his will.”
“When?”
“March 17.”
“Year?”
He gave it.
Claire entered the numbers.
The file opened.
Inside was a video.
Charles Whitmore.
Alive.
Sitting in the office whose portrait now hung in headquarters.
He looked tired.
Older than sixty-three.
He stared directly into the camera.
“If this file has been opened, then either Arthur failed to protect it…”
Arthur flinched.
“…or I am no longer alive to explain it myself.”
Nobody moved.
Charles continued.
“My wife believes Whitmore Logistics belongs to the family.”
He paused.
“She is wrong.”
I glanced at Arthur.
“Daniel believes succession makes him untouchable.”
Another pause.
“He is wrong too.”
Charles opened a folder.
“I discovered unauthorized payments beginning under my signature.”
His jaw tightened.
“I did not authorize them.”
Arthur leaned closer.
“Someone has been using my credentials.”
My pulse accelerated.
Charles continued.
“I initially suspected Daniel.”
Arthur whispered, “So did I.”
“But I was wrong.”
The video flickered.
Then Charles said:
“The person directing the payments is not my son.”
A knock sounded somewhere in the recording.
Charles looked toward the door.
Fear crossed his face.
Real fear.
He leaned closer to the camera.
“If anything happens to me, look at Morton.”
I froze.
Morton.
The restaurant.
The same private dining room where Margaret slapped me.
Charles whispered:
“The records are hidden where Margaret would never think to look.”
The knocking grew louder.
He reached toward the camera.
Then stopped.
“One more thing.”
His face hardened.
“Robert knows.”
The video ended.
The agents looked at one another.
Board chairman Robert Leland.
Daniel’s godfather.
The man who had just removed Arthur from the special committee.
The man now trying to frame me for altered evidence.
My phone buzzed again.
Another anonymous message.
May you like
This time, only three words.
TOO LATE, ETHAN.
