Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN THEY TRIED TO FRAME
Jasmine laughed when she saw the account.
“Of course.”
Naomi stared.
“What?”
“If you’re going to frame the secretary, at least be original.”
Account opened three months earlier.
Identity documents:
Jasmine’s.
Signature:
Close.
Not perfect.
Phone number:
Not hers.
Address:
Virtual office.
Who created it?
Corporate filing agent.
Instruction came through Malcolm’s attorney.
Good.
Evidence.
Still ugly.
Then access logs showed Jasmine’s employee credentials had downloaded Aster archives the previous night at 9:08 p.m.
She froze.
Impossible.
She was on the subway.
The wrong train.
Derek looked at her.
“What time did you realize you were going downtown?”
“About eight-fifty.”
“What time did you exit Union Square?”
“9:23.”
He smiled slowly.
“Your mistake is an alibi.”
Transit card logs.
Station cameras.
Phone location.
Twelve missed calls from Derek.
Marcus’s vehicle arriving at her apartment while she was absent.
Every embarrassing detail from that night proved she was nowhere near Drake systems at 9:08.
Jasmine stared.
“For once, missing the right train was useful.”
Derek almost laughed.
Then IT discovered her credentials had been cloned using administrator access.
Who possessed administrator privilege?
Malcolm.
Two cybersecurity executives.
And Derek.
Derek voluntarily submitted his access devices for forensic review.
Good.
No “trust me.”
Evidence.
Malcolm’s device was tied to clone request.
Frame weakened.
Then investigators found the $5 million had not moved into Jasmine’s control.
It sat pending.
Malcolm intended appearance, not enrichment.
Probably to claim Thomas and daughter were both thieves.
Narrative.
Inherited guilt.
Jasmine hated him for that almost more than money.
Then her mother called.
“I need to tell you something before someone else does.”
Jasmine braced.
“What?”
“I met Malcolm after your father died.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her mother swallowed.
“Years later.”
When Jasmine was sixteen.
Malcolm paid Evelyn $40,000.
For what?
To sign a statement claiming Thomas suffered from mental instability before death.
Jasmine closed her eyes.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We were losing the house.”
“You sold Dad’s name.”
Her mother sobbed.
“Yes.”
Jasmine felt something separate inside her.
Love did not disappear.
Trust did.
Those were different.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
The statement had been used internally to discredit Thomas’s fraud claims.
Victor Drake saw it.
Maybe that helped him justify silence.
Evelyn carried guilt ever since.
Then:
“Why were you so hard on me?”
Her mother cried.
“I thought if you became ambitious, you’d end up like him.”
There.
Every insult.
Plain.
Forgettable.
Men like that don’t notice girls like you.
Not only cruelty.
Fear disguised as discouragement.
Still cruelty.
Jasmine said:
“You don’t get to protect me by teaching me to hate myself.”
Silence.
Then her mother whispered:
“I know.”
First honest apology of her life.
But Jasmine was not ready to forgive.
Good.
Then police found Malcolm.
Not abroad.
At an old Drake-owned warehouse.
The same warehouse complex where Thomas died.
He had gone back for one thing.
A safe hidden beneath the office floor.
Inside were records nobody knew existed.
Including a payment made two days after Thomas’s death.
Recipient:
Evelyn Cole.
Amount:
$250,000.
May you like
Jasmine stared.
Her mother had never mentioned that money.
