Chapter 7: What the Fiancée Was Planning
She found Dominic in his office at seven that evening.
He was on a call.
He held up one finger when she appeared in the doorway — wait — and finished the conversation in four sentences.
Then he set the phone down and looked at her.
"You're still here."
"I need to show you something."
He looked at the folder in her hands.
Then at her face.
"Sit down."
She sat.
She opened the folder and placed the first document on the desk between them.
"Three invoices from the household accounts over the past fourteen months.
Each one was redirected after entry — from the household system, using Ms.
Whitmore's credentials — to an external account." She placed the second sheet down.
"The account is registered to a holding company.
The holding company's listed officer is Marcus Hale."
Dominic did not move.
"Your attorney," she said.
He looked at the documents for a long time without touching them.
"Where did you get these?"
"Ruth.
She's kept copies since the first redirect.
She didn't know who to bring them to."
"How much?"
"Across the three invoices — forty-one thousand, two hundred dollars."
A muscle moved in his jaw.
The same one she had seen move in the restaurant.
"There's more," she said.
"I received an anonymous message today.
Someone with access to the redirect records.
They told me she's planning to move the rest — a larger amount — before the engagement ends."
He looked up from the documents.
"Before the engagement ends," he repeated.
"That was the phrasing."
"She told you the engagement was ending?"
"No.
The message implied she already knows.
That she's moving quickly because of it."
Dominic stood.
He walked to the window and stood with his back to her for a moment, looking out at the dark garden.
"How long have you known about the redirects?" he asked.
"Since Tuesday, when I flagged the most recent invoice.
I spent the week building the documentation before I brought it to you.
I didn't want to come in here with a suspicion."
He turned around.
"You spent a week sitting on this."
"I spent a week making sure it was real."
He looked at her for a long moment.
Something in his expression shifted — not softening exactly.
More like a recalibration.
"Marcus Hale has been my attorney since I was twenty-six years old," he said.
"I know."
"He handled my father's estate.
My first three acquisitions.
The restructuring in 2019."
"I know."
"If this is what it appears to be—"
"It is," she said quietly.
"I'm sorry."
He sat back down.
He picked up the first document and read it properly this time — slowly, the way a person reads something they already understand but need to make real.
"The anonymous message," he said.
"Do you know who sent it?"
"I have a suspicion.
I haven't confirmed it."
"Tell me."
"Carter."
Dominic set the document down.
"Why would Carter—"
"Because he's been watching this longer than I have," Norah said.
"And because he needed someone to bring it to you who wasn't already inside the situation.
Someone you'd believe." She paused.
"Someone you'd already decided you could trust."
The silence stretched.
Then Dominic picked up his phone and dialed.
"Carter.
My office.
Now."
He set the phone down and looked at the folder.
"She's upstairs," he said.
"Yes."
"She doesn't know you've brought this to me."
"Not yet."
He nodded slowly.
"Then we have tonight," he said.
"And tomorrow she's going to realize the window has closed."
Norah thought about Valerie's voice on the staircase.
*Find out who she is and where she came from.
All of it.*
"She'll come after me," Norah said.
"Yes." He said it without hesitation, which she found, strangely, more reassuring than a denial would have been.
"She will."
"And Marcus Hale?"
May you like
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"Leave Marcus to me."
