This time it sounded different.
Possessive.
Almost paternal.
Adrian opened another payroll file.
Then another.
His jaw tightened.
At 7:03, he called the only person in Blackwell Holdings whose loyalty he trusted more than Victor’s.
“Rafael.”
The voice on the other end was instantly alert.
“Boss.”
“I need six people. Quiet people.”
“For what?”
“An audit.”
Rafael Ortiz was silent.
Everyone in Adrian’s inner circle knew the word audit rarely required six former military investigators.
“Corporate?”
“Everything.”
“How quiet?”
Adrian looked toward the kitchen.
June was somewhere downstairs, probably trying to decide whether the most powerful man she had ever met was about to help her or erase the problem she had accidentally revealed.
“Quiet enough that Victor Hale sleeps normally tonight.”
Another silence.
Then Rafael said, “Understood.”
“And Rafael?”
“Yes?”
“Find out everything you can about June Carter.”
“What kind of everything?”
Adrian thought of the bracelet.
“Everything except how to use it against her.”
June expected to be fired.
Instead, at eight in the morning, Adrian found her polishing the silver in the dining room as though nothing had happened.
Her eyes were swollen.
“You’re working?”
She looked frightened.
“Was I not supposed to?”
“You were supposed to go home.”
“My shift ends at four.”
“You haven’t eaten.”
“I had toast.”
“June.”
She lowered the cloth.
“I can’t lose this job.”
“You’re not losing it.”
Her shoulders loosened slightly.
Adrian placed an envelope on the table.
She looked at it but did not touch it.
“What is that?”
“The money stolen from your wages during the last twelve months.”
Her head snapped up.
“I had accounting calculate it.”
June took a step backward.
“I can’t.”
“It’s yours.”
“What if there’s a mistake?”
“There isn’t.”
“What if someone says I took—”
“No one will.”
She stared at the envelope.
Her chin trembled.
Then she shook her head.
“I need you to understand something.”
Adrian waited.
“I don’t want charity.”
“It isn’t charity.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“That’s becoming painfully obvious.”
Something flickered in her expression.
He continued.
“I own the company that employed you. Money was taken from you while my name sat on every document. Whether I personally knew or not doesn’t change what happened.”
June finally touched the envelope.
She opened it.
Her knees nearly gave out.
Inside was a cashier’s check.
She stared at the amount.
Then she sat down.
“That’s…”
“Yes.”
“My mother’s medical debt…”
“Pay it.”
“Micah needs dental work.”
“Then pay for it.”
“Lila’s school—”
“June.”
She looked up.
“Take your life back.”
Her face crumpled.
Adrian turned away before she could thank him.
He did not want gratitude.
Not yet.
Not for returning stolen property.
But as he reached the doorway, June spoke.
“Mr. Blackwell?”
He stopped.
“There’s something you should know.”
He turned.
“I complained once.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“To whom?”
“The agency payroll office.”
Adrian’s expression sharpened.
“What happened?”
“They told me the deductions were contractual.”
“Did you keep anything?”
June hesitated.
Then she reached into the pocket of her uniform and removed her phone.
“I recorded the second call.”
Adrian stared.
“Why?”
“Because the first woman got scared when I asked where my pension account was.”
“Scared how?”
“She stopped talking.”
June unlocked the phone.
“The second call was different.”
She pressed play.
A male voice crackled from the speaker.
Ms. Carter, your compensation structure has been explained.
June’s recorded voice answered.
Then tell me where the pension contributions go.
They are administered internally.
By who?
Silence.
Then the man said something that made Adrian’s blood turn cold.
Some questions can affect placement eligibility.
The recording ended.
Adrian looked at June.
“Do you know who that was?”
“No.”
He did.
Martin Sloane.
Blackwell Holdings’ director of human resources.
Another man who had attended Margaret’s funeral.
Another man Adrian had trusted.
The circle was widening.
And for the first time, Adrian understood something far more dangerous than theft.
Victor had not been acting alone.
For three days, Adrian behaved normally.
He attended meetings.
Approved acquisitions.
Laughed at Victor’s jokes.
Sat beside Martin Sloane at a charity luncheon.
He even hosted a private dinner at the mansion for senior executives.
June served wine.
Adrian watched the men around his table.
Victor.
Martin.
Chief financial officer Leonard Pierce.
General counsel Samuel Crowe.
Four men who collectively controlled almost every internal mechanism capable of hiding a financial crime.
Margaret used to call them Adrian’s four horsemen.
