Skip to content
“Don’t.”
His voice wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
Daniel had always imagined my father as some distant businessman he would never meet.
Now he was standing three feet away from the man whose company Daniel had once described as “built on exploiting people.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Claire, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That your father is Richard Hale?”
I glanced at Dad.
“Because it wasn’t relevant to our marriage.”
Daniel laughed nervously.
“Not relevant?”
“No.”
He looked around the room.
The expensive watch on his wrist suddenly seemed uncomfortable.
“You let me believe…”
“I never lied to you.”
“You knew I hated people who used family money.”
“I never asked you for a cent.”
Dad stepped closer.
“That was her decision.”
Daniel lowered his eyes.
Then he noticed a folder on the table.
“What is that?”
I placed Noah carefully in his bassinet.
“The reason you should be worried.”
Daniel looked at the folder.
I opened it.
Inside were financial records.
Bank transfers.
Company invoices.
Internal correspondence.
And several payments connecting Daniel’s mother to a vendor that had been receiving unusually large contracts from a company where Daniel worked.
His face went pale again.
“Where did you get those?”
“I told you,” I said. “I’m a forensic accountant.”
He stared at me.
“You’ve been investigating my company?”
“No.”
I slid one document toward him.
“I’ve been investigating discrepancies that appeared in the accounts you manage.”
Daniel picked it up.
His hands trembled.
“These numbers…”
“Don’t match.”
He looked at me…