Chapter 13 - Martin Cole
The elevator doors opened.
Martin Cole was sixty-one.
Gray suit.
No tie.
A leather briefcase.
He looked less like a criminal mastermind than somebody’s accountant.
That made him more unsettling.
He stepped out.
Saw Rebecca.
Stopped.
“Well.”
Rebecca crossed her arms.
“Martin.”
He looked at me.
“Claire.”
Julian moved between us.
“You stay away from my wife.”
I almost laughed at the sudden transformation.
Twenty minutes earlier, I had been replaceable.
Now he was protecting me.
Martin noticed too.
“How touching.”
Eleanor rushed toward him.
“You said she would never find out!”
Julian spun.
“What?”
Martin sighed.
“Eleanor, please.”
“You promised!”
He looked at her almost pityingly.
“You were remarkably easy to manipulate.”
Her face collapsed.
Martin had used Preston and Eleanor.
But not merely for revenge.
He wanted access to an investment structure connected to my old company.
The penthouse was useful because one of my holding companies had once used the property as a registered correspondence address.
Martin believed gaining control of the property could help support fraudulent corporate filings.
Rebecca shook her head.
“You would've been caught.”
“Eventually.”
“Then why?”
Martin smiled.
“Because sometimes the objective isn't to keep the money.”
I stared at him.
“What was the objective?”
“To make you look responsible when it disappeared.”
There it was.
Not theft.
Framing.
Julian looked confused.
Martin had intended to create transactions appearing to originate through entities linked to me.
If successful, investigators might initially believe I had participated in moving funds.
My reputation would collapse.
My former company could be dragged into litigation.
Revenge.
Then I noticed his briefcase.
“What’s inside?”
“Nothing relevant.”
“Open it.”
“No.”
Julian stepped forward.
Martin reached into his jacket.
Rebecca immediately backed away.
But he didn’t pull a weapon.
He produced a flash drive.
“This is what you should be worried about.”
He placed it on the table.
“Everything Eleanor gave me.”
Eleanor stared.
Martin continued.
“Passwords.”
“Documents.”
“Recorded conversations.”
Julian looked at his mother.
“You recorded us?”
She began crying.
Martin smiled.
Then:
“Including the conversation where Eleanor explained exactly why she wanted Claire out before the baby arrived.”
The room went completely silent.
I looked at Eleanor.
“What did you say?”
She shook her head desperately.
May you like
Martin slid the flash drive toward me.
“Play it.”
