Adrian Vale didn’t ask Sloane to explain herself.
He ordered everyone out.
That was somehow worse.
Leo hesitated near the doorway.
“Boss, you sure?”
Adrian looked at him.
Leo left.
The door closed.
Sloane stood alone with a man who had kidnapped her by accident and then refused to release her on purpose.
Adrian pointed toward a chair.
“Sit.”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“I’ve spent enough time in chairs today.”
“Fine.”
He remained standing too.
“What did you mean?”
Sloane tightened her arms across her chest.
“I’ve seen your name in Marlowe’s records.”
“What records?”
“Property accounts. Vendor payments. Maintenance contracts.”
“And O’Donnell?”
“Yes.”
The muscles along Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only honest one. I wasn’t looking for organized crime. I was trying to figure out why our operating expenses were suddenly fourteen percent higher.”
A strange silence followed.
“You noticed fourteen percent?”
“I’m a bookkeeper.”
Adrian looked at her differently.
Not like a hostage.
Like information.
Sloane wasn’t sure that was an improvement.
She explained the irregular payments. Companies that existed only on paper. Contractors billing identical amounts across unrelated buildings. A security vendor charging for guards at vacant properties.
Then she told him about the $1.8 million transfer.
“That payment went out under my credentials.”
“You authorized it?”
“No.”
“Can you prove that?”
“If I can access our server.”
Adrian walked to the window.
Rain streaked the glass.
“Someone inside Marlowe is moving money.”
“Yes.”
“Between my organization and Patrick O’Donnell’s.”
Sloane’s stomach tightened at the word organization.
He didn’t pretend anymore.
“Apparently.”
Adrian turned.
“And they used your credentials.”
“Yes.”
“Which means somebody may already be planning to blame you.”
That possibility had occurred to her.
Hearing Adrian say it made it real.
“My boss has access to my login.”
“Doug Mercer?”
Sloane stared.
“You really did search everything.”
“I dislike surprises.”
“You must be having a terrible day.”
Again, that almost-smile.
It vanished quickly.
Adrian walked to the door.
“You’re coming with me.”
“Where?”
“To get your laptop.”
“My apartment?”
“Yes.”
Sloane laughed once.
“No.”
Adrian stopped.
“What?”
“You are absolutely not walking into my apartment.”
“You want to prove someone stole your credentials.”
“I do.”
“Then we need your computer.”
“You can send Daniel.”
“Daniel is currently negotiating with Meatball.”
Despite everything, Sloane smiled.
It was the first genuine smile Adrian had seen from her.
For a second, his expression softened.
Then his phone vibrated.
He read the message.
Whatever it said erased the softness immediately.
“What happened?”
“O’Donnell’s daughter disappeared thirty minutes ago.”
Sloane’s blood went cold.
“You didn’t take her.”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“That,” Adrian said, “is what worries me.”
They drove into Chicago with two SUVs escorting them.
Sloane sat in the back beside Adrian.
She had expected handcuffs.
There were none.
She had expected threats.
There were surprisingly few.
“You understand I could scream at a stoplight,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Or run.”
“Yes.”
“Does that not concern you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever stole $1.8 million using your credentials knows you can expose them.”
Sloane looked out the window.
“So you think staying with the man who accidentally kidnapped me is safer than going home?”
“For tonight?”
Adrian’s eyes met hers.
“Yes.”
She hated that he might be right.
Her apartment door was unlocked.
Sloane knew immediately.
She always locked it.
Adrian caught her arm before she stepped inside.
“Behind me.”
“I live here.”
“Not relevant.”
He entered first.
The place had been torn apart.
Couch cushions slashed.
Kitchen drawers emptied.
Her bedroom looked as if a storm had passed through it.
“Meatball?”
Sloane rushed forward.
Adrian caught her around the waist.
“Stop.”
“My cat is in there.”
“Sloane.”
She fought his grip.
Then a furious orange blur shot from beneath the bed and attacked Adrian’s ankle.
Adrian swore.
Sloane gasped.
“Meatball!”
The cat hissed at him.
Adrian stared down at the enormous tabby.
“This is Meatball?”
“Don’t body-shame him.”
“He weighs more than some of my weapons.”
Meatball hissed again.
Sloane scooped him up.
Her hands were shaking.
Adrian noticed.
“This happened before Daniel got here?”
Daniel appeared from the hallway.
“Yes. Back door was forced. Whoever searched the place was already gone.”
Sloane buried her face briefly against Meatball’s fur.
Someone had known.
Someone had been looking for something.
Her laptop was gone.
But then she remembered.
“The drive.”
Adrian turned.
“What drive?”
Sloane carried Meatball into the kitchen and reached into an empty cereal box.
She pulled out a small flash drive.
“I copied the suspicious transactions.”
Adrian stared.
“You hid financial evidence in cereal?”
“Nobody steals bran flakes.”
For the first time, Adrian Vale laughed.
It was brief and low and completely unexpected.
Then Daniel entered holding a photograph.
“Boss.”
Adrian took it.
His expression changed.
Sloane stepped closer.
The photograph showed Adrian standing outside a restaurant.
A red circle had been drawn around his head.
On the back were four words.
THE WRONG GIRL KNOWS TOO MUCH.
Sloane felt suddenly cold.
“They know about me.”
Adrian’s voice became hard.
“Yes.”
“How?”
He looked toward Daniel.
“Find out.”
Back at the estate, Adrian gave Sloane a bedroom larger than her apartment.
Meatball immediately claimed a velvet chair that probably cost more than Sloane’s car.
She sat on the bed with the flash drive in her palm.
A knock sounded.
Adrian entered carrying a laptop.
“No internet connection,” he said. “Isolated network.”
“You trust me with a computer?”
“No.”
“At least you’re consistent.”
She inserted the drive.
For the next two hours, they worked.
Adrian sat beside her while she explained shell companies, invoice patterns, and transfer dates.
Gradually, a picture formed.
Money had been moving between companies connected to Patrick O’Donnell and Adrian’s legitimate businesses for nearly two years.
Someone was stealing from both sides.
Someone wanted each man to believe the other was responsible.
And Sloane’s credentials had been used to hide the largest transfer yet.
Then she found something else.
A recurring approval code.
“AV-17.”
Adrian went still.
“What?”
“That authorization code,” Sloane said. “It appears on six transfers.”
Adrian didn’t answer.
“Whose is it?”
His face had become unreadable.
“Mine.”
Sloane stared.
“So either you stole your own money…”
“I didn’t.”
“…or somebody has access to your private authorization.”
Only a handful of people could have that.
Adrian stood.
“Who?”
He didn’t answer.
But Sloane saw something in his eyes.
Betrayal.
Not fear.
He knew exactly how small the list was.
His phone rang.
Daniel’s voice came through the speaker.
“We found O’Donnell’s daughter.”
“Alive?”
“Yes. She was dumped near Navy Pier.”
Adrian exhaled.
“And?”
“She says the men who took her kept asking about Jenkins.”
Sloane’s stomach dropped.
“Me?”
Daniel continued.
“They wanted to know what Sloane Jenkins had found in the Marlowe accounts.”
Adrian slowly turned toward her.
The kidnapping had never been about Sloan O’Donnell.
Not really.
Someone had used the confusion between two women with nearly identical names.
Someone had manipulated Adrian’s men into grabbing Sloane Jenkins.
And whoever had done it knew she had discovered the money trail.
Adrian looked at the flash drive.
Then at Sloane.
“This wasn’t Leo’s mistake.”
She understood at the same moment.
Someone had wanted her brought directly into Adrian Vale’s house.
And only someone inside Adrian’s organization could have arranged it.
---