Chapter 9
Dad waited until everyone left the conference room.
Maya stayed.
So did I.
He sat across from me.
For the first time in my life, Thomas Carter looked uncertain.
“Dad.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“There is a loan.”
“How much?”
“Six million.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Carter Development had a bad year.”
“You told me the company was fine.”
“It is now.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
He looked at me.
“Two projects collapsed at the same time. One developer went bankrupt. Another fought us over payment. We had payroll, equipment loans, materials, subcontractors.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it wasn’t your burden.”
I stood.
“I am so tired of men deciding what information I can handle.”
Dad flinched.
I regretted the wording immediately.
But I didn’t take it back.
He nodded.
“You’re right.”
That stopped me.
“I should have told you.”
Maya asked, “How does Ryan know?”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“I don’t know.”
“Who knew?”
“My CFO. The bank. Outside counsel.”
“Anyone connected to Ryan?”
Dad thought.
Then his face changed.
“Victor.”
I stared.
“How?”
“Victor Hale’s holding company participated in the loan.”
Maya leaned forward.
“What percentage?”
“Twenty.”
My heart pounded.
Victor.
Again.
Ryan’s supposed buyer.
Dad’s lender.
My competitor.
This was no coincidence.
“Why would Victor loan money to your company?”
Dad sighed.
“Because he wanted leverage.”
“Over me?”
“I suspected that.”
“You still accepted?”
“We were forty-eight hours from missing payroll for eight hundred employees.”
That silenced me.
Dad continued.
“Victor didn’t control the loan. A regional bank did. His fund bought a participation interest. At the time, it seemed manageable.”
“And Ryan knew.”
“Apparently.”
Maya opened her laptop.
“Could the loan affect ownership of this building? Emma’s company?”
“No.”
“Emma’s inheritance?”
Dad hesitated.
I stared.
“What?”
He looked ashamed.
“I used part of my Carter Development shares as collateral.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Dad.”
“Forty percent.”
My chest tightened.
If he defaulted, someone could gain a massive stake in his company.
Victor.
Or whoever purchased the debt.
Ryan’s words returned.
The most desperate father.
“Did Ryan know you were struggling when he met me?”
Dad shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Maya said, “Derek may have discovered it during his background investigation.”
I sat down.
The whole thing widened again.
Ryan hadn’t only studied me.
He studied Dad.
Our vulnerabilities.
Our assets.
Our pressure points.
My phone rang.
Victor Hale.
I stared at it.
Maya nodded.
“Answer.”
“Victor.”
“Emma.”
His voice was calm.
“I assume your morning has been unpleasant.”
“That’s one word.”
“I received Maya’s recording.”
“Did Ryan forge your signature?”
“Yes.”
“Did you agree to buy my company from him?”
“No.”
“Did you ever discuss buying it with him?”
Pause.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Dad swore softly.
“When?”
“Twice.”
“Why?”
“Because Ryan approached me.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I wanted to know what he knew.”
“You could’ve called me.”
“I should have.”
Everyone was suddenly confessing things they should have told me.
I was tired of being protected by deception.
“What did Ryan offer?”
“Thirty-five percent voting control after marriage.”
“He never owned that.”
“I knew that.”
“You still met him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Victor exhaled.
“Because I suspected he was running a scam.”
“You could have warned me.”
“I tried.”
I froze.
“When?”
“The anonymous email you received six weeks ago.”
I remembered it.
One sentence.
DO NOT MARRY RYAN BENNETT UNTIL YOU CHECK HIS DEBTS.
I showed Ryan.
He laughed.
He said one of my competitors was trying to sabotage us.
Then he deleted it from my laptop while “checking the metadata.”
That had been Victor.
“You sent that?”
“Yes.”
“Why anonymously?”
“Because I had no proof.”
“You had enough proof to meet Ryan.”
“I wanted evidence.”
My anger rose.
“So you used me as bait.”
Silence.
“Answer me.”
“In a way, yes.”
I almost hung up.
Victor continued.
“I’m not asking you to forgive that.”
“Good.”
“But you need to know Ryan’s debt isn’t just gambling.”
“What else?”
“He borrowed against something.”
“Against what?”
“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”
Maya leaned closer to the phone.
“Victor, what did he pledge?”
“A future acquisition interest.”
“In Carter Events?”
“Possibly.”
My stomach turned.
“He borrowed money based on the assumption he would gain control of my company?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred fifty thousand from a private lender.”
“Who?”
Victor paused.
“Derek Holloway arranged it.”
That explained the pressure.
Derek wasn’t just gathering information.
He was financially invested in Ryan succeeding.
Victor continued.
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
“Ryan also approached someone about purchasing Thomas’s loan participation.”
Dad leaned toward the phone.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I’m trying to find out.”
Dad’s voice hardened.
“You inserted yourself into my financing and my daughter’s marriage.”
Victor replied calmly.
“You came to my fund.”
“I needed capital.”
“And Ryan came to me.”
“Enough,” I said.
Both men stopped.
I was done listening to powerful men explain how every bad decision was necessary.
“What do I need to know right now?”
Victor answered.
“Ryan may be trying to gain leverage over both companies.”
“How?”
“If he could control enough of Carter Events, he could force a sale. If someone friendly to him acquired a large piece of Thomas’s secured debt, they could pressure Carter Development too.”
“For what purpose?”
“Money.”
Simple.
Ugly.
Believable.
After the call, Dad stared out the window.
“I brought this near you.”
“No.”
I walked beside him.
“Ryan did.”
“I still should’ve told you.”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
I touched his arm.
“But we can deal with two truths at once.”
“What truths?”
“You made mistakes.”
I swallowed.
“And I still love you.”
His eyes filled.
He hugged me.
That mattered.
Because unlike Ryan, Dad could admit he was wrong without turning my pain into an attack on him.
At noon, police called.
Derek was cooperating.
Not fully.
Enough.
He admitted Ryan hired him eighteen months earlier to identify “financially compatible” women.
He admitted conducting background research on me.
He claimed he never knew about forged documents.
Nobody believed that part.
Then he offered something in exchange for leniency.
A storage unit.
Ryan had rented it under another name.
Police obtained access.
Inside were boxes.
Files.
Computers.
Old phones.
And photographs.
Not just of me.
Women.
Five of them.
Exactly as Linda said.
Five women Ryan had researched before choosing me.
One photograph had a red X through it.
Another had notes.
Married.
Family suspicious.
Too much debt.
No business equity.
Beside my picture:
BEST OPTION.
I stared at it in the police interview room.
My throat burned.
Then an officer slid another photograph toward me.
“Do you know this woman?”
I looked.
She was blonde.
Mid-thirties.
Familiar.
I couldn’t place her.
Then I remembered.
She had attended our wedding.
Ryan introduced her as a former coworker.
I looked at the notes beside her photograph.
PREVIOUS ATTEMPT.
FAILED.
My skin went cold.
“Previous attempt?”
The officer nodded.
“We were hoping you could identify her.”
“I know her first name.”
“What is it?”
“Claire.”
Dad searched his memory.
“Claire Morgan?”
“Yes.”
Maya typed quickly.
Then she stopped.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She turned the laptop toward me.
An old local news article.
Three years earlier.
Nashville businesswoman hospitalized after falling down staircase.
Claire Morgan, founder of a software consulting firm.
Her fiancé at the time had reportedly found her after the accident.
The fiancé wasn’t named.
But the photograph beside the article showed Claire being escorted from a hospital weeks later.
Behind her stood Ryan.
My blood froze.
“He was engaged to her.”
Maya kept searching.
Claire sold her company six months later.
Then disappeared from Nashville.
No social media.
No professional page.
Nothing.
The officer looked at me.
“We need to find her.”
I whispered, “Ryan told me he’d never been engaged.”
Another lie.
Maybe the biggest yet.
Police found Claire’s current address in Louisville.
They called.
No answer.
Sent local officers.
No one home.
Neighbors said she traveled often.
Then one officer returned carrying an evidence bag from Ryan’s storage unit.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
It was dated three years ago.
Addressed to Ryan.
I recognized Claire’s name at the bottom.
The officer read only part aloud.
Ryan,
I know what you did.
I know why you chose me.
I know Linda helped you.
And if you ever do this to another woman, I will tell her everything.
My hands started shaking.
Claire knew.
She had threatened to expose him.
And somehow, three years later, she attended our wedding.
Why?
I turned the page.
There was another note written in Ryan’s handwriting.
CLAIRE HANDLED.
Maya stared at it.
“What does that mean?”
No one knew.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A message.
Emma, this is Claire.
My heart stopped.
Another message arrived.
I heard you’re looking for me.
May you like
Then a third.
Do not trust Victor.
