Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO FIND OUT
“It does,” Evelyn repeated. “The house is still in the family, Nathan. You’re the one trying to sell it out from under us.”
Nathan stood across Richard Carter’s desk, looking at his pregnant wife as though she had become a stranger overnight.
“You don’t understand what’s at stake.”
“Then explain it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It became simple when you used my signature without permission.”
Nathan rubbed both hands over his face.
For eleven years, Evelyn had watched him do that whenever a business deal began slipping away. She used to move closer, rub his shoulders, and promise they would figure something out.
This time, she remained seated.
Nathan noticed.
“Carter Lane employs 214 people,” he said. “Good people. Some have worked for me since the beginning.”
“I know their names.”
“Then you know what happens if the loan collapses.”
Evelyn rested a hand against her stomach.
“I also know your father didn’t leave this house to become collateral for your mistakes.”
Nathan flinched.
“You always bring Dad into everything.”
“Your father brought me into this, Nathan. Four months before he died.”
She slid Richard’s letter across the desk.
Nathan stared at the familiar handwriting.
He didn’t touch it.
“He trusted you more than his own son?”
The hurt beneath his question surprised her.
For a moment, she saw the young man she had married, the one who used to lie awake worrying that he would never measure up to Richard Carter.
But sympathy was not the same as surrender.
“He trusted me to protect the house,” she answered. “That doesn’t mean he stopped loving you.”
Nathan gave a bitter laugh.
“Easy for you to say.”
He reached for the creditor’s certificate.
Evelyn placed her hand over it.
“Who copied my signature?”
“I told you. Brooke’s team prepared the package.”
“Does Brooke know?”
Nathan hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
“Nathan.”
“She manages investor relations. She knows about the financing.”
“Does she know that the property belongs to a trust?”
“She knows the estate was part of the development.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Nathan turned toward the window.
Outside, Thanksgiving decorations still hung from the stone pillars. A burgundy ribbon Evelyn had tied around a wreath fluttered in the November wind.
Finally, he said, “I never told her about the trust restrictions.”
Evelyn felt the room grow colder.
“So you lied to both of us.”
“I was going to straighten everything out after closing.”
“You were going to borrow eighteen million dollars first.”
Nathan spun around.
“Do you think I wanted this?”
“I think you wanted to look successful.”
His face hardened.
“You have no idea what it's like when everyone expects you to be Richard Carter’s son.”
“No,” Evelyn said quietly. “I know what it’s like to be Nathan Carter’s wife.”
That silenced him.
A sharp movement beneath her ribs made her pause.
Nathan immediately stepped forward.
“Is the baby okay?”
“She’s moving.”
“Should you be sitting here arguing?”
“I wasn’t the one who came into this room looking for a fight.”
He lowered himself into the chair opposite her.
For the first time that morning, his confidence seemed to collapse.
“The company has been losing money for eight months,” he admitted.
Evelyn stared at him.
Eight months.
During those same eight months, Nathan had bought a new car, hosted expensive dinners, and told her their investment portfolio was doing wonderfully.
“How much?”
“More than I can cover.”
“Tell me the number.”
“Eleven million in obligations coming due before January.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Nathan leaned forward.
“The hotel project would save us.”
“No. It might save the company. It would put your mother’s home at risk.”
He looked away.
“And you were willing to do that without telling her.”
“I thought I could replace the collateral before anyone noticed.”
Evelyn almost laughed.
Instead, she remembered something.
“Where’s my wedding ring?”
Nathan looked startled.
“What?”
“My ring. I left it beside your plate last night.”
He reached into his coat pocket.
The little gold band lay in his palm.
“I picked it up after you left.”
For one foolish second, Evelyn remembered the afternoon he had proposed.
A rainy Sunday.
A cheap restaurant near Central Park.
Nathan trembling while he opened the box because he had spent three months saving for the ring.
He had promised they would always tell each other the truth.
Now he placed it on Richard’s desk.
Evelyn didn’t reach for it.
A movement at the doorway made them turn.
Eleanor stood there holding a silver tray.
Behind her was Brooke Whitmore.
Brooke wore a camel-colored coat and carried the same expensive handbag Evelyn had seen at Thanksgiving.
Nathan rose immediately.
“Brooke? What are you doing here?”
“Your office said the investors were calling everyone.”
Brooke glanced toward Evelyn.
“I thought we should talk.”
Eleanor stepped between them.
“Perhaps you should have considered that yesterday.”
Brooke swallowed.
“I understand why you’re angry.”
“No,” Eleanor replied. “I don’t believe you do.”
Evelyn noticed something unusual.
Brooke wasn’t looking at Nathan.
She was looking at the creditor’s certificate.
“Is that the Harbor Point package?” Brooke asked.
Arthur Bell entered from the hallway.
“Yes.”
Brooke’s expression changed.
“That version should never have left the office.”
Nathan went rigid.
“What do you mean?”
Brooke set down her handbag.
“There were two versions.”
Evelyn felt her pulse accelerate.
“Two?”
“One for internal review. One for the lender.”
Arthur moved closer.
“Which one contained Mrs. Carter’s signature?”
Brooke looked at Nathan.
“The final version.”
Nathan shook his head.
“That’s impossible. I never authorized a final version.”
Brooke opened her handbag and removed a small black notebook.
“The approval came through your executive office Tuesday evening.”
“From whom?”
Brooke’s fingers trembled as she turned the pages.
“Your chief financial officer.”
“Martin?” Nathan asked.
“Yes.”
Martin Hale had worked for Carter Lane for fourteen years.
Evelyn knew his wife, Susan. She had attended their daughter’s wedding.
Nathan snatched the notebook.
“Martin wouldn't do that without telling me.”
Brooke took a slow breath.
“He said you had already approved everything.”
Arthur extended his hand.
“May I?”
Brooke handed him the notebook.
Arthur studied several pages.
Then he looked at Evelyn.
“Mrs. Carter, when did you last access the family property tax records?”
“September. I prepared the annual filing.”
“Where did you save them?”
“On Nathan’s company server. I always sent a copy to accounting.”
Arthur nodded grimly.
“That explains how they obtained the signature image.”
Nathan stared at Brooke.
“Why didn't you tell me there were two packages?”
“Because Martin told me you knew.”
“And you believed him?”
Brooke’s face reddened.
“He was your CFO, Nathan. And every time I asked a difficult question, you told me not to interfere.”
Evelyn looked at them both.
The same sentence.
The same impatience.
Nathan had used it to silence his wife for years.
Now his mistress had heard it too.
Arthur closed the notebook.
“We need the transaction history before Monday.”
Brooke shook her head.
“There may not be time.”
Evelyn studied her.
“Why?”
Brooke hesitated, then pulled a folded investor schedule from her handbag.
“Harbor Point isn't the only lender.”
Nathan stared at her.
“What are you talking about?”
Brooke unfolded the paper on Richard’s desk.
A second transaction appeared beneath the eighteen-million-dollar loan.
An additional six million dollars.
An entity called Waverly Holdings.
And an authorization date from three weeks earlier.
Evelyn read the designated guarantor.
Her name was printed beneath Nathan’s.
But the line that made her blood run cold was farther down.
The guaranty referenced property she had inherited from her own mother.
Property Nathan had once promised never to touch.
Evelyn slowly lifted her eyes.
“Nathan,” she whispered, “why is my mother’s house listed as security for another six million dollars?”
Nathan stared at the page.
May you like
For the first time, he looked genuinely frightened.
“Evelyn,” he said, “I’ve never seen that loan before.”
