Chapter 3: The Woman He Trusted Most
Nathan read the message a second time.
Then a third.
I watched the color disappear from his face.
“What does it say?”” I asked.
He turned the phone toward himself.
“Nothing.””
Rebecca placed her napkin beside her plate.
“If it concerns the documents we are discussing, I suggest you preserve the message and consult your own counsel.””
Nathan ignored her.
His thumb moved rapidly across the screen.
He typed something, deleted it, and typed again.
Finally, he stood and walked into the hallway.
I could hear his voice through the open doorway.
“Camille, answer me.””
Silence.
“Camille, I know you can hear this. Call me back.””
He ended the call and immediately tried again.
I looked at Rebecca.
She gave me a small, measured nod.
Not triumph.
Not reassurance.
Just acknowledgment that something significant had happened, and neither of us yet knew what it meant.
Nathan returned to the dining room.
“Dinner's over.””
Rebecca glanced at the untouched plates.
“That is entirely your decision.””
He pointed at her.
“You knew about this.””
“I know about the financial records Audrey provided to me. I don't know what is happening with your bank account.””
“You expect me to believe that?””
“I don't particularly care what you believe, Mr. Cole. My responsibility is to my client.””
Nathan looked at me.
“What did you give her?””
“Documents.””
“What documents?””
“The ones you hoped I would never find.””
He swept his hand across the table.
A fork clattered onto the floor. One of the gold-edged plates slid sideways, striking a water glass and sending it tumbling into a puddle.
“Stop talking in riddles!””
I didn't move.
For years, I had learned to recognize the moment before Nathan's anger became something more dangerous.
The tightening jaw.
The sudden stillness.
The way his voice dropped instead of rising.
I used to respond by apologizing, changing the subject, or trying to make him laugh.
Tonight, I simply stood up.
“Rebecca, would you like some coffee before you leave?””
Nathan stared at me.
“Are you serious?””
“Very.””
Rebecca closed her case.
“I would, thank you.””
Nathan looked between us, breathing hard.
Then he grabbed his coat from the back of the chair.
“You two deserve each other.””
He stormed toward the front door.
A moment later, it slammed so hard that the framed photograph on the console tilted sideways.
The house fell quiet.
I stood beside the dining table, listening to his footsteps fade down the front steps.
Then I looked at Rebecca.
“Did you know Camille was involved in the transfers?””
“No,” she said.
“And I want to be very clear about that. The information we reviewed concerned payments made by Hawthorne to entities that appeared questionable. We haven't established who authorized every transaction, who ultimately received the funds, or whether any individual acted improperly.””
“Then why would Camille's name appear in that message?””
“That's a question Nathan needs to investigate through the proper channels.””
She paused.
“Did you ever see the original contracts for those consulting payments?””
“Only the versions stored in the company records.””
“Were they signed by Nathan?””
“Some were. Others had digital approvals attached.””
Rebecca nodded slowly.
“Then we need to preserve the underlying records and have the relevant professionals examine them. No accusations, no assumptions. Just evidence.””
I glanced at the dining table.
The ruined place setting.
The spilled water.
The empty chair where Camille was supposed to sit.
“I spent four months thinking she stole my husband,” I said.
Rebecca's voice softened.
“And now?””
“Now I wonder whether I ever knew either of them.””
She reached across the table and touched my uninjured hand.
“You don't have to solve everything tonight.””
But I knew Nathan.
If he believed I had discovered something that could threaten his position at Hawthorne, he wouldn't wait for the truth to settle itself.
He would move.
He would call people.
He would try to control the story before anyone else could tell it.
And if Camille had information that could hurt him, he would do everything possible to find out what she knew.
I helped Rebecca gather her documents.
Before leaving, she handed me a business card.
“If Nathan contacts you about the financial issues, don't debate the details. Save any messages, and send them to me. If he becomes threatening, prioritize your safety and contact the appropriate authorities.””
“I will.””
She paused at the front door.
“Audrey, one more thing. Did Nathan ever tell you why he wanted Camille staying here rather than putting her in a hotel?””
“He said her lease was complicated.””
“Did you believe him?””
I looked toward the staircase.
“No.””
Rebecca nodded.
“Good. Don't let him convince you that asking questions makes you unreasonable.””
After she left, I locked the door.
Then I stood alone in the hallway, listening to the rain.
For the first time in months, I didn't feel the urge to check Nathan's location or wonder whether he would come home.
I went upstairs, removed my earrings, and washed the dinner dishes.
It was a small, ordinary act.
But when I placed the final plate in the cabinet, I realized something had changed.
I was no longer cleaning up after a man who expected me to absorb every consequence of his behavior.
I was cleaning my own house.
At 10:42 p.m., my phone rang.
Camille Rhodes.
I stared at her name until the call went to voicemail.
Thirty seconds later, a text appeared.
Audrey, please. We need to talk.
I didn't respond.
Another message followed.
I know Nathan told you I was moving in because of my lease. That isn't why he wanted me there.
My fingers went cold.
I typed one question.
Then why?
The reply arrived almost immediately.
Because he thinks you still have something your grandmother left you. Something he needs before the company's audit is finished.
I sat down on the edge of the bed.
My grandmother had left me the townhouse, her savings, and a small collection of personal papers. As far as I knew, there was nothing else.
I typed:
What are you talking about?
Camille called again.
This time, I answered.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I heard her crying.
“Audrey,” she whispered, “I know you hate me.””
“I don't have time for that right now.””
“I understand.””
“Then tell me why my husband wanted you inside my house.””
Camille took a shaky breath.
“Three weeks ago, Nathan asked me whether your grandmother had ever mentioned a trust, a private account, or any documents connected to the original Hawthorne restaurant.””
I frowned.
“What original restaurant?””
“The first one. The one your grandmother helped you finance.””
My grandmother had loaned me money when Nathan and I opened our first location. She had insisted that the agreement be documented, even though she trusted us both.
I remembered signing papers at this very table.
But I had assumed the loan had been repaid years ago.
“Why would Nathan care about that now?””
“Because the company's auditors found a discrepancy in the early investment records,” Camille said.
“They couldn't reconcile a portion of the original funding with the current ownership documents.””
I stood up.
“Camille, are you saying Nathan has been changing the company's ownership records?””
“I don't know exactly what he did. I only know he was desperate to find the original documents.””
“Why?””
“Because if your grandmother's investment carried conditions that were never properly discharged, it could affect how certain shares were recorded.””
I pressed a hand against the dresser.
The room suddenly seemed too small.
“Why are you telling me this?””
“Because Nathan asked me to help him find the papers. And because I found something else.””
“What?””
Her breathing grew uneven.
“A folder in his office. It contained copies of transfers from Hawthorne to a consulting company registered under my brother's name.””
I closed my eyes.
The suspicious payments.
The missing documentation.
The unexplained transfers.
“Did your brother know?””
“I don't know. Nathan told me it was a legitimate vendor arrangement. I believed him at first.””
“And now?””
“Now I think he used my family to hide something.””
I looked toward the bedroom door.
The house was silent.
Nathan had spent years telling me that I was too trusting, too emotional, too easily distracted by details that didn't matter.
But he had been the one asking questions about my grandmother's documents.
He had been the one moving money through accounts I couldn't fully access.
And he had been the one who wanted Camille inside my home.
“What do you have?”” I asked.
“Copies of some invoices. Emails. A spreadsheet showing transfers that don't match the contracts.””
“Why didn't you go to the auditors?””
“Because I was afraid.””
Her voice broke.
“Nathan told me he could destroy my career. He said the company would blame me because my brother's name was on the vendor registration.””
I sat down again.
“You helped him betray me.””
“I know.””
“You came into my marriage knowing I was still here.””
“I know.””
“You stood beside him while he treated me like I was nothing.””
“I know, Audrey.””
There was no excuse in her voice now.
Only fear.
I could have screamed at her. I could have hung up and left her to whatever Nathan had planned.
Instead, I asked the only question that mattered.
“Do you still have the documents?””
“Yes.””
“Have you altered or deleted anything?””
“No.””
“Then don't touch them. Preserve what you have, and speak with an independent attorney before you make any decisions. I won't promise to protect you from the consequences of your choices.””
“I understand.””
“And Camille?””
“Yes?””
“If you're lying to me, this conversation ends here.””
“I swear I'm not.””
I ended the call and immediately contacted Rebecca.
She answered on the second ring.
“Audrey?””
“I think we have a bigger problem.””
I explained everything Camille had told me.
Rebecca listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she was quiet for several seconds.
“Don't contact Nathan about this,” she said.
“And don't access any company systems you're not authorized to use. We need to establish what the original documents actually say and whether the audit findings support Camille's claims.””
“What if Nathan gets to the records first?””
“Then we make sure the people responsible for preserving them know they exist. I'll speak with the appropriate counsel tomorrow.””
I looked at the rain streaking the window.
“What if my grandmother left something I never knew about?””
“Then we'll find out.””
After we hung up, I went downstairs.
The dining room was still a mess.
The candle had burned low. The chicken had gone cold. One of the gold-edged plates was cracked beside the sink.
I began clearing the table.
When I lifted the folded napkin from the third place setting, I noticed a small envelope tucked underneath it.
It wasn't Rebecca's.
The paper was yellowed, the edges softened with age.
My name was written across the front in my grandmother's unmistakable handwriting.
Audrey — open this only when you need to know what your grandfather and I really intended.
I stopped breathing for a moment.
I had never seen the envelope before.
Inside was a short handwritten note and a key taped to a piece of paper.
The note contained just three sentences.
The first restaurant was never meant to belong to Nathan alone.
If he ever tries to change what we built, look for the blue ledger.
And whatever you do, do not let him find it first.
I read the note twice.
Then I turned the paper over.
At the bottom, my grandmother had written an address.
An address for a storage facility outside Philadelphia.
And beneath it, in smaller handwriting, were five words that made my blood run cold.
Ask who really owns Hawthorne.
I looked toward the dark staircase.
Nathan had wanted Camille inside my house.
He had wanted my grandmother's documents.
May you like
And now I knew he had been searching for something specific.
The only question was whether he knew that I had just found the first clue.
