Chapter 6 - THE PRICE OF A THIRTY-YEAR FRIENDSHIP
I found Monica in the employee break room.
She was standing beside the coffee machine, holding a paper cup she hadn't touched.
When she saw my face, she put it down.
“Laura—”
“Did you use my mother's money to renovate your apartment?”
She went completely still.
The refrigerator hummed behind us.
Outside, a sales associate laughed with a customer.
Ordinary life continued while thirty years of friendship collapsed in front of me.
“What are you talking about?” she whispered.
“Forty-eight thousand dollars. M. Reyes Property Holdings.”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
That was answer enough.
I shut the break-room door.
“Tell me the truth.”
Monica looked down.
“I didn't know whose money it was.”
I felt tears sting my eyes.
“Don't insult me.”
“I'm not.”
“Andrew transferred money into a company using your maiden name, and you never asked where it came from?”
She began crying.
“Four years ago, he told me it was an investment.”
I stared at her.
“Four years?”
She nodded.
“He knew I was behind on rent. My credit was terrible. He said if I helped him manage a small property account, he'd give me a chance to rebuild.”
I stepped backward.
“You were involved with my husband four years ago?”
“No.”
Her answer came immediately.
“The affair started last winter.”
I wanted to believe her.
That frightened me more than anything.
Even now, part of me was searching for the girl who'd shared my lunch in high school.
The girl who sat beside me when my mother was diagnosed with cancer.
The woman I'd defended when other people called her unreliable.
“Then what did you think the account was for?”
Monica rubbed her face.
“I thought Andrew was buying distressed properties with investors. He asked me to register a company because he said his job prevented him from being directly involved.”
“And you agreed?”
“I needed money.”
I shook my head.
“You needed money, so you helped my husband hide it.”
She began to speak.
I raised my hand.
“I'm not finished.”
She went silent.
“For months, you watched me question myself. You watched me cry in the office. You told me I was exhausted.”
Monica's shoulders shook.
“I know.”
“You helped him make me look incompetent.”
“Yes.”
The word landed between us.
It was the first completely honest thing she'd said.
I sat down.
“Why?”
She stared at her hands.
“Because I was tired of being the person everyone felt sorry for.”
I looked up.
“You think I felt sorry for you?”
“Sometimes.”
Her voice trembled.
“You had a husband, a house, a good job. People respected you. When I got hired, everyone knew you were the reason.”
“I was proud of you.”
“I know.”
“Then why wasn't that enough?”
Monica wiped her cheeks.
“Because I hated needing you.”
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then she whispered, “Andrew knew exactly how to use that.”
She told me the affair began after a regional sales conference.
She'd complained about feeling invisible.
Andrew listened.
He told her she deserved more.
He praised her ideas.
He promised that when Victor retired, she could manage my store.
Eventually, he told her I was becoming unstable.
At first, Monica said she'd defended me.
Then Andrew showed her reports.
Reports he'd created.
“He told me you were making serious mistakes,” she said.
“And you believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
There it was.
The truth that hurt most.
Not that she'd been fooled.
That she'd chosen the version of me that made her betrayal easier.
I stood.
“You need to tell Daniel everything.”
Her eyes widened.
“Andrew will destroy me.”
“You helped him try to destroy me.”
“I could lose my job.”
I looked at her.
“So could I. Except I didn't steal anything.”
Monica covered her face.
After a long silence, she nodded.
“I'll cooperate.”
I wanted to feel relieved.
Instead, I felt empty.
As I reached the door, she spoke again.
“Laura, there's something you don't know about Andrew.”
I turned.
“What now?”
“He isn't planning to marry me.”
I stared at her.
“He told me he was leaving you. But last week, I found out he'd been negotiating a transfer to Houston.”
“Without you?”
She nodded miserably.
“He told Elena he'd be relocating alone.”
The betrayal had finally reached Monica.
I couldn't bring myself to comfort her.
“That sounds like Andrew.”
Monica looked up.
“He's been selling things.”
“What things?”
“Equipment. Inventory. Some of the older commercial assets.”
I froze.
“Without Victor's approval?”
“I don't know. But he keeps talking about a closing date.”
That word stayed with me.
Closing.
Not resignation.
Not divorce.
A closing.
I hurried upstairs.
Daniel was examining the company's vendor accounts when I told him.
He immediately requested transaction records for the previous six months.
Within an hour, we discovered several unusual transfers.
Used delivery trucks sold below market value.
Warehouse equipment reassigned to third-party contractors.
Commercial inventory written down as damaged, then transferred to buyers who paid far less than the listed value.
All approved through Andrew's department.
One receiving company shared a registered mailing address with M. Reyes Property Holdings.
Daniel leaned back.
“This is bigger than the refunds.”
Victor stood beside him, looking twenty years older.
“How much bigger?”
“We're still calculating.”
Then Daniel opened the acquisition proposal.
The buyer was scheduled to complete its final operational review on Friday.
The same Friday Andrew planned to force my resignation.
I suddenly understood the timing.
Andrew wanted me gone before outside reviewers examined the financial records.
He needed a convenient explanation for missing funds.
And he needed Victor desperate enough to accept unfavorable terms.
“Could the sale still happen?” I asked.
Victor looked at the proposal.
“Possibly. But not like this.”
Daniel frowned at another page.
“Victor, did the buyer request permission to acquire assets through a separate holding company?”
“No.”
Daniel turned the monitor toward us.
A newly added exhibit named an outside asset-management partner.
I recognized the name immediately.
It was the same company receiving discounted inventory.
But beneath its corporate registration details was something worse.
A document identified a minority investor who would receive a substantial payment upon closing.
Elena Alvarez.
Victor gripped the back of his chair.
“My daughter?”
Daniel nodded grimly.
“And there's an electronic authorization attached.”
I leaned closer.
The signature matched the one on the bank account opened in my name.
Victor looked devastated.
But I noticed something he hadn't.
The authorization date was August fourteenth.
The day I supposedly opened that bank account.
The day I'd been at work receiving Mrs. Whitaker's furniture.
I pointed to the timestamp.
“Daniel, was Elena in Dallas that day?”
He checked the personnel travel records.
“No. She was at a conference in Phoenix.”
I stared at the two signatures.
Two separate transactions.
Two different cities.
The same authorization date.
The same executive credentials.
Then Daniel enlarged the digital audit record.
The access had originated from Casa Encino's corporate network.
Specifically, a workstation registered to the commercial director's office.
Andrew's office.
And attached to both records was the same verification image.
A photograph of a woman holding an identification card.
May you like
The woman in the photograph wasn't me.
It was Monica.
