Chapter 2 - The Mask Slips
We left the hotel lounge through a side exit to avoid being seen by any of Noah’s corporate contacts who frequented downtown. David Sterling took his car, promising to send us an encrypted drive with the digital audit trail by midnight. Claire drove my truck, her hands steady on the steering wheel while I stared out the passenger window into the neon blur of the city.
"How long have you really known?" I asked, breaking the silence between us.
Claire kept her eyes on the road. "I began noticing things five months ago. Noah bought a brand-new Porsche 911 GT3 in cash. When you asked him about it, he told you Rebecca's family paid for it as an early wedding gift. But I ran into Rebecca’s mother at the grocery store, and she casually mentioned how grateful they were that Noah was paying for the entire wedding reception at the country club."
A knot twisted tight in my gut. "Rebecca’s father lost his auto parts franchise two years ago. They couldn't afford that wedding."
"Exactly," Claire said. "Noah was flashing money everywhere while you were cutting your own salary to ensure the drywall crews got paid every Friday. Then three weeks ago, our personal home equity line of credit showed an unauthorized credit pull. That’s when I called Sterling."
We pulled into the driveway of our small split-level home. It was the only thing I owned that hadn't been leveraged—or so I hoped. We went straight to my home office in the basement, where I kept the backup hard drives from our corporate server.
I booted up the terminal and typed in my master administrator credentials.
Access Denied.
I blinked, typing the password again with slow, deliberate keystrokes.
Access Denied. Account Suspended by System Administrator.
"He locked you out," Claire said, standing behind my chair with her hand on my shoulder.
"Noah isn't the system administrator," I muttered, my fingers flying over the keyboard. "Our IT provider is an outside firm. He couldn't lock me out without corporate authorization."
Unless he presented the board resolution granting him temporary emergency control.
My phone rang on the desk. The caller ID flashed: Noah.
Claire and I exchanged a glance. I took a deep breath, hitting the speakerphone button.
"Hey, Noah," I said, forcing my tone to sound level, keeping the tremor out of my chest.
"Ethan, buddy! Where are you?" Noah’s voice boomed through the small room, full of that boisterous, easy charm that had made clients adore him from the moment our dad brought him on the job site. "I’ve been trying your office extension. Listen, we need to talk about tomorrow morning's site inspection for the Harbor Pointe project."
"I'm at home," I said. "What about the inspection?"
"Well, the thing is, the inspectors called to reschedule," Noah said smoothly. "So you don't need to drive out to the coast tomorrow. Take the day off. You’ve been looking completely burned out lately, man. Let me handle the site walkthrough with the city engineers."
I stared at Claire. She shook her head firmly.
The Harbor Pointe project was our biggest contract of the year—an eight-story mixed-use residential building. The foundation poured two months ago was scheduled for structural framing certification tomorrow. If Noah kept me away from the site, it meant only one thing: something was wrong with the build, or someone was coming to inspect something he didn't want me to witness.
"Actually, Noah," I said, leaning closer to the microphone. "I'm already feeling much better. I'll meet you on the harbor site at seven in the morning sharp."
A sudden, sharp silence fell over the other end of the line. When Noah spoke again, the warm, fraternal rhythm was gone, replaced by a cold, clipped edge.
May you like
"I said don't worry about it, Ethan. I already took care of it. Stay home with Claire."
Before I could answer, he hung up.
