Chapter 3

A week later, Grace sat in what used to be my office, drunk on a sense of power she had never tasted before.

She had ordered the space redecorated in her favorite blush pinks and filled it with expensive scented candles.

Matthew indulged her in everything. She had only to want something, and it appeared.

She was certain the hard part was over. Jennifer was gone — nothing more than a stepping stone she'd already crossed.

But the problems came quickly.

End of month. Payday.

The new CFO — a high-priced hire, someone with an impressive resume — had spent three straight days staring at the Vault's login screen. He never got past it.

"Ms. Grace," he said, his expression tight with discomfort, "this system... we can't get into it at all. It doesn't recognize any external devices. Standard operations are completely locked out."

"Useless." Grace didn't bother softening it. "The company is paying you to solve problems, not stand there and list them."

The CFO's face cycled through several shades of red and white, but he said nothing. Everyone in the building knew Grace was Matthew's favorite.

"What exactly did Jennifer do when she ran this thing?"

"I have no idea!" Grace waved him off. "Bottom line — before end of business today, I want every employee's paycheck deposited. If that doesn't happen, you're fired."

Payroll is sacred. A single day's delay could set off a firestorm among the staff.

Grace smoothed her skirt, walked into Matthew's office, and shifted into her softest voice.

"Matthew, there's a little snag with payroll."

"What kind of snag?" Matthew was reading a market report. He didn't look up.

"The new CFO can't get into the old system. Maybe we could ask Jennifer to come back for a day — just to export the data and walk the new team through it?" She kept her tone light, careful.

What she actually wanted was to see Jennifer walk back in and perform like a trained helper in front of the entire staff. A final humiliation to crush what was left of her pride.

Matthew's brow creased. He didn't like hearing Jennifer's name.

She had left so calmly it had been infuriating — like throwing a punch and hitting cotton. It left him unsatisfied in a way he couldn't quite shake.

"Why would we call back someone we let go?" he said flatly. "That makes us look desperate. Tell the CFO to figure it out himself. If he can't handle something this basic, he can go too."

"But if paychecks don't go out today, people are going to be upset."

"Then use the reserve fund and wire everyone manually. How hard can it be?" He turned a page. "And tell IT to crack that system or replace it altogether."

Grace left without getting what she came for.

Manual transfers. Hundreds of employees. The finance team worked through the night — cross-checking account numbers, calculating withholding, processing each one individually.

By the time it was done, the entire department was exhausted and furious.

But the paychecks went out.

Grace breathed a small sigh of relief. Just a minor inconvenience, she told herself.

She had no idea this was only the beginning.

The next morning, a much bigger problem detonated.

Oceanic Technologies — the company's largest supplier — sent a payment demand directly to Matthew's personal inbox.

"Matthew, the three-million-dollar invoice from last quarter was due yesterday per our contract. What's going on?"

Matthew summoned the CFO immediately. "Why hasn't Oceanic been paid?"

The CFO was visibly sweating. "Sir, all payments go through the system's approval workflow. And we still can't access the system."

"Every contract, every payment record, every approval chain — it's all locked inside."

"What about backups? Paper files?"

"Jennifer implemented a fully paperless process. Everything is in the system."

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

Matthew's expression went dark. He picked up his phone and called Jennifer for the first time since she'd left.

"The number you have dialed is not available."

That automated message ignited something hot and ugly in his chest.

Playing hard to get, was she?

He didn't know that at that moment, I was sitting on the deck of a cruise ship sailing toward Phuket, salt wind in my hair and a glass of champagne in my hand.

My old phone was somewhere at the bottom of the Strait of Malacca.

The new one — new number, clean slate — was sitting quietly in my bag.

And that still wasn't the worst of it.

The worst came on the morning of the third day, when two men in uniform walked through the company's front entrance, their expressions carefully neutral.

"Good morning. We're investigators from the IRS Criminal Investigation division."

"We've received a formal, named complaint alleging serious tax fraud by this company."

"This is our official examination notice. We'll need the legal representative — Mr. Matthews — to cooperate with our investigation."

"Please produce all financial records and tax filings for the past three years. Immediately."