Chapter 3

"What do you want, Brenda?"

I shut the conference room door and turned to face her.

"What do *I* want?" She sat at the head of the long table, crossing her legs, spinning her lollipop. "I think the question is, what do *you* want? David Miller hasn't stepped foot in this plant for three years, yet you manually approved his timecards every week. Where was that thirty-two hundred a month going?"

I stayed silent.

"Let me guess," Brenda cooed, her smile mockingly sweet. "You opened a separate bank account and had it direct-deposited. Over three years, that’s... what? Over a hundred thousand dollars?"

"Go ahead and report me then."

"Do I look like a snitch?" She gasped, putting a hand over her heart in mock offense. "I know you're a single mom. It's tough. You probably spent all that money on your kid's hospital bills. I get it. I really do."

The sweeter she acted, the colder my spine felt.

"But..." She stood up and sauntered over to me. "Richard’s got a nasty temper lately, and the cops are making him crazy. If someone were to drop a hint that you've been pocketing a ghost salary for three years..."

"How much?" I cut her off.

She held up one finger, her eyes gleaming.

"From now on, whatever you take from his paycheck, I get half. Fifty-fifty."

"David’s already been taken off the payroll."

"Then add another one. If you could make up David Miller, you can make up a John Smith. You've been doing this for three years, Chloe. You're a pro."

"You're insane."

"Insane or not, it doesn't matter." She pointed the plastic stick of her lollipop right at my nose. "Agree to it, or these screenshots will be on Richard’s desk tomorrow morning. Corporate embezzlement is a felony. Minimum three years in prison. Who's going to pay for your kid's surgery then?"

She hit me right where it hurt the most.

I clenched my jaw, staring at her.

"Give me time to think."

"Fine. Twenty-four hours." She slung her fake Coach bag over her shoulder and walked to the door. She paused and looked back. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to punch in for three days last week. Fix that for me, will you? Consider it a token of our new partnership."

She walked out.

My phone buzzed again.

"Ms. Vance, just calling to remind you, the payment deadline is 5 PM tomorrow—"

"I know."

"Lily said something this afternoon. I thought you should know."

"What did she say?"

"She said, 'Tell Mommy not to sell her blood anymore. I don't need the surgery.'"

My throat felt like it was being squeezed by a giant fist.

"Where did she hear about selling blood?"

"The family in the next bed was arguing about raising money. She probably overheard them. Ms. Vance, she's such a sweet, sensible girl..."

"I'll be there tomorrow. I'll have the money."

I didn't cry when I hung up. Crying was useless.

Fifteen thousand dollars.

I opened my contacts and scrolled through. There was not a single person who could lend me that kind of money.

As I walked down the second-floor hallway, I noticed Richard's office door was slightly ajar. His voice drifted out.

"...Everything on that end has been scrubbed. The canal thing won't lead back to us."

"The only issue is the payroll trail. If the insurance company audits last year's claim—"

"They won't. We just need to doctor the paperwork. Isn't that how we always do it?"

I held my breath.

"Use the old playbook. File it as a workers' comp issue. We have plenty of fake names in the system anyway—"

Footsteps.

I quickly took two steps back, pretending I had just walked up the stairs.

The door swung open. Richard poked his body out. Seeing me, his eyes turned cold and sharp as nails.

"What are you doing up here?"

"Just passing by. Going to the breakroom."

He stared at me for three long seconds.

"Keep your ass on the first floor. Your desk is downstairs."

The door slammed shut in my face. The click of the lock sounded like a bone snapping.

He said "names." Plural.

David Miller wasn't the only ghost.

The fake employees on the payroll... I wasn't the only one making them.

"Oh, look who's upstairs again."

Brenda walked out of the restroom, chewing on a fresh red lollipop.

"Don't forget, twenty-four hours. I expect my answer tomorrow."