Chapter 8: Secrets of the Marriage
Chapter 8: Secrets of the Marriage
The room fell into stunned silence.
"It was our accountant."
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Twenty-three board members stared at Nathan Ashford as if they had never truly known the man sitting before them.
Nathan's face had become almost colorless.
His fingers tightened around the federal order until the paper crumpled in his hand.
Finally, he spoke.
"Linda Pierce isn't dead."
Marcus met his eyes.
"No."
"Not Linda."
Nathan froze.
Marcus continued.
"The senior accountant."
"Daniel Reeves."
Nathan's pupils contracted.
For the smallest fraction of a second...
Pure panic crossed his face.
It was enough.
Richard noticed.
The federal agents noticed.
So did I.
Marcus quietly nodded toward one of the investigators.
"Document his reaction."
The investigator wrote only four words.
Subject recognizes victim's name.
Richard slowly stood.
"This meeting is over."
"No."
Harold Bennett interrupted gently.
"I believe there's one final matter."
Richard looked at him.
Harold opened a thick leather folder.
"For four years..."
"Mrs. Ashcroft personally guaranteed every emergency loan made to Ashford Global."
Nathan frowned.
"What?"
Harold slid the documents across the table.
"Whenever cash flow collapsed..."
"Whenever investors walked away..."
"Whenever suppliers threatened legal action..."
"Someone quietly kept this company alive."
Nathan looked at the signatures.
Every guarantee...
Every emergency credit line...
Every confidential investment...
Carried the same name.
Evelyn Ashcroft.
He slowly raised his eyes toward me.
"You..."
I nodded.
"You thought you were saving me."
"In reality..."
"I was saving you."
A memory struck Nathan with brutal clarity.
Three years earlier.
Ashford Global had nearly collapsed after losing a billion-dollar shipping contract.
He had returned home devastated.
The next morning...
A mysterious investor injected enough capital to stabilize the company.
Nathan had celebrated his own negotiation skills.
He now realized...
He had never negotiated anything.
That night...
I had quietly called my father.
Nathan laughed.
It wasn't amusement.
It was disbelief.
"So every promotion..."
"Every acquisition..."
"Every award..."
I answered softly.
"You earned some of them."
"But every time your pride nearly destroyed everything..."
"I caught you before you fell."
His eyes filled with confusion.
"Why?"
"Because I loved you."
The room remained silent.
"I believed the man I married was still somewhere inside you."
"I kept hoping he'd come back."
Nathan lowered his head.
"And when did you stop hoping?"
I looked at him calmly.
"The day you pushed me down the stairs."
The words hit harder than any accusation.
Several board members exchanged uneasy glances.
They had heard rumors six months earlier.
Nathan had explained that I had suffered an accidental fall.
No one questioned him.
Now...
They understood why.
Richard walked toward the conference room window overlooking Manhattan.
"When Evelyn was ten..."
he began quietly,
"she asked me why our family had so much money."
The room listened.
"I told her wealth wasn't measured by what you owned."
"It was measured by what you protected."
He turned toward Nathan.
"My daughter protected your company."
"You protected your ego."
A soft knock interrupted the silence.
Marcus opened the door.
One of the forensic accountants hurried inside carrying another tablet.
"We found additional records."
Richard accepted it.
"What kind?"
"Personal expenditures."
Nathan frowned.
"So?"
The accountant connected the tablet to the large display.
Rows of financial transactions appeared.
Private jets.
Luxury vacations.
Jewelry.
Apartments.
Designer boutiques.
Every purchase had been charged to corporate accounts.
Board members stared in disbelief.
Harold looked at Nathan.
"You approved reimbursement for all of this?"
Nathan swallowed.
"I..."
Another page appeared.
A penthouse overlooking Central Park.
Purchased through a shell company.
Occupant listed as...
Celeste Monroe.
Gasps filled the room.
One director whispered,
"He bought his mistress an apartment with company funds."
Nathan closed his eyes.
There was nothing left to deny.
Then Marcus opened the final folder.
"This one surprised even us."
He projected a collection of old photographs onto the screen.
The first picture showed Nathan and me during our first apartment renovation.
Paint covered our clothes.
We were laughing.
The second...
Our honeymoon.
The third...
Our first company Christmas party.
Nathan smiled at me in every photograph.
Not pretending.
Genuinely smiling.
The room became strangely quiet.
Richard looked at the screen.
"I remember that man."
He turned toward Nathan.
"So do I."
Nathan stared at the photographs.
For a moment...
The ruthless executive disappeared.
Only the young husband remained.
His voice was barely audible.
"I loved you."
I met his eyes.
"I know."
The room froze.
Nathan looked up.
"You... know?"
I nodded slowly.
"I never doubted that."
His expression filled with desperate hope.
"Then maybe—"
I gently interrupted him.
"You loved me."
"But eventually..."
"You loved power more."
The hope disappeared from his face.
Marcus received another message through his earpiece.
He listened carefully.
Then looked toward Richard.
"The search team finished examining Mr. Reeves' office."
"And?"
Marcus's voice became even quieter.
"They recovered a hidden external hard drive."
"What was on it?"
Marcus paused.
"Daniel Reeves recorded a private meeting."
Nathan stopped breathing.
Marcus looked directly at him.
"The meeting took place the night before Daniel disappeared."
The federal agents immediately looked toward Nathan.
Richard folded his hands.
"Who attended that meeting?"
Marcus answered with chilling precision.
"Three people."
"Nathan Ashford."
"Celeste Monroe."
"And Daniel Reeves."
Silence.
Marcus placed the hard drive on the conference table.
"The forensic lab estimates..."
"...we'll be able to recover the recording within twenty-four hours."
Nathan slowly sank back into his chair.
For the first time...
He wasn't afraid of losing his company.
He wasn't afraid of prison.
He was afraid of what his own voice might reveal once that recording was restored.
Outside the glass walls of the boardroom, reporters continued gathering below.
The financial scandal had already become national news.
None of them knew...
May you like
That by tomorrow...
It might become a murder investigation.
