Chapter 6: The Partner Who Kept Receipts
Rowan Hatch was not what I expected.
I had pictured someone like Jason — polished, easy with a smile, the kind of man who made you feel included right up until the moment he didn't need you anymore.
But the man who walked into Patricia's conference room that afternoon was tired.
Genuinely tired, in the way of someone who had been carrying something heavy for too long and had finally decided to put it down.
He was in his mid-fifties.
He set a manila folder on the table before he even sat down.
"I'll be honest with you," he said.
"I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart.
Jason cheated me too.
But what I have will help you more than it helps me, so here we are."
Patricia looked at the folder.
"What's in there?"
"Emails.
Wire transfer records.
And a recording." He looked at me directly.
"About four months ago, Jason told me the business was struggling.
Said we needed to restructure.
I agreed.
Then I started noticing things that didn't add up." He tapped the folder.
"I started keeping copies."
"What kind of things?" Patricia asked.
"Money going into the Delaware account that should have gone into the business operating account.
Contracts signed in the business name that routed payments directly to the holding company.
And one conversation — in my own office, which I recorded legally, I want to be clear — where Jason told me the plan was to wind the business down, take the remaining capital, and relocate."
"Relocate where?" I asked.
Rowan looked at me.
"He didn't say.
But he mentioned Diane.
Said she'd already given notice at the firm."
The folder sat on the table between us.
Patricia opened it.
She read for two minutes without speaking.
"This is enough," she said.
"Combined with Gerald's findings, this is more than enough."
"I want to be a witness," Rowan said.
"Whatever you need.
Deposition, court, I don't care.
He told me you were unstable.
That you'd been a problem for years.
That the marriage had been over for a long time and you just refused to accept it." His jaw tightened.
"I believed him, for a while.
I'm sorry for that."
I looked at him across the table.
"How long ago did you stop believing him?"
"When I saw what he did to the accounts." He sat back.
"A man who steals from his business partner will steal from anyone.
I should have seen it sooner."
Patricia was already making notes.
"I'll need you available this week.
We're filing tomorrow."
"I'll be available," Rowan said.
He stood, then paused.
"For what it's worth — the people at his firm know about Diane.
Have for a long time.
Nobody told you because nobody wanted to be the one." He looked at me steadily.
"That wasn't right.
You deserved to know."
He left the folder and walked out.
Carol, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, let out a long breath.
"Well."
"He kept receipts," I said.
"He kept receipts," she agreed.
Patricia stacked the documents into a neat pile.
"Tomorrow morning, we file.
Asset freeze petition goes in simultaneously.
His attorney will receive notice by afternoon." She looked at me.
"He's going to call you the moment he finds out."
"I know."
"What will you do?"
"Forward it to you," I said.
She almost smiled.
"Good."
I gathered my bag.
At the door I stopped.
"Patricia.
Is there any chance he moves the money before tomorrow?"
"Gerald flagged the accounts this morning with our forensic contact at the bank.
Any transfer over five hundred dollars triggers a hold and a notification to us." She met my eyes.
"He can try.
He won't get far."
I walked out into the afternoon sun.
Carol fell into step beside me.
"How are you doing?" she asked.
Not the automatic version of the question.
The real one.
I thought about it honestly.
"I feel like I've been living in a house that had a false floor.
And I've just been shown the basement."
"That's accurate," Carol said.
"But I'm not falling through it," I said.
"That's the part that surprises me."
She took my arm as we walked to the car.
"You were always stronger than he needed you to be."
I didn't answer.
But I didn't disagree either.
That evening, Jason called four times.
I forwarded each one to Patricia without listening to the voicemails.
The fifth time, he didn't leave a message.
The sixth time, it wasn't his number.
May you like
It was his mother's.
I let it ring.
