Chapter 3

Bertram's words dug into my ears like needles.

I hadn't embezzled anything.

But last month I had pulled together $300K for my mother's surgery.

Every cent of my savings from years of work, plus the freelance jobs I took at night until three in the morning, plus what I scraped together borrowing from six or seven friends.

Back then I worked all day and took side jobs at night.

I sat at her bedside with dark circles under my eyes, reworking project files with one hand and looking after her with the other.

The day the money went into the hospital's account, I stood at the payment window with my hand shaking so badly I nearly misspelled my own name.

Anyone who has been poor knows $300K isn't a number. It's a life.

Bertram must have picked me because he saw that I needed that money right then, right when my mother got sick.

A daughter short on cash, a mother gravely ill, a flawless embezzlement script.

He thought he had me by the soft spot.

I raised my eyes and looked at the satisfied look on his face, and it suddenly struck me as absurd.

This man had probably never once lost sleep over money.

He didn't understand that someone who has gritted her teeth through the hardest days doesn't fall to a few threats.

"Are you finished?"

"My mother's illness, my $300K. Anything else?"

Bertram's smile froze for a beat.

"Everything you just said is helping me build my case."

I looked him in the eye, spacing out each word.

"Illegally obtaining an employee's family's private records, forging bank statements, and now threats and intimidation. When the police get here, do you really think you can talk your way out of all that?"

I had him so cornered his face went red. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Libby, beside him, jumped in at once.

She flipped the stack of statements to the last page, her voice cold.

"Don't be stupid about this. Director Lawrence is being generous, trying to leave you a way out. If you won't take it, then we do this by the book."

"Ten deposits, totaling three hundred four thousand, eight hundred. Every one between five and fifty thousand, sitting just under the bank's risk-control threshold. Anyone in finance can see at a glance this was structured to dodge monitoring."

She closed the folder, her tone all business.

"Company policy: any misappropriation over sixty thousand can be filed as a case. You're at $300K. If you refuse to confess, we're entitled to push for the harshest treatment. At that point it won't be a question of whether you lose your job. It'll be whether you ever walk out of a holding cell."

"And during your mother's surgery you took time off constantly. I pulled your attendance records too. All of it goes into the timeline of when you committed the crime. You think you can get away?"

Bertram stood up again and looked down at me.

"Sign this today, admit it was an operational error, and you can still go home and care for your mother. As for the money, the company will let you pay it back in installments."

I looked at him and said nothing for a few seconds.

Bertram blinked, thrown.

"Every word you just said, I've got it memorized. When you're locked up, I'll repeat all of it to the police, word for word."

I curled the corner of my mouth.

"Weren't you the one who said the evidence was ironclad? Then let's see, when the mountain comes down, who it lands on."

Bertram's face went completely black.

He turned and shot Jade a look.

"Get everyone into the main conference room, the whole department! She won't confess? Then we lay out the evidence in front of the entire company. Let's see how long she can keep her mouth running."