Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
At 8:17 p.m., Laurel discovered that her ex-boyfriend had been planning her downfall for at least three weeks.
She found the first clue in a place Preston had always underestimated.
A seating chart.
The Brightstep benefit had been planned for eleven months. Laurel knew every donor, every sponsor, and every last-minute change.
Preston Wade had purchased two tickets four days earlier.
But the original sponsor list contained something interesting.
Wade Technologies had requested a private table near Elias North six weeks before that.
The request had been denied.
Twice.
Laurel stood in the service corridor, studying the records on June's laptop.
“Why didn't I see this?”
June looked uncomfortable.
“Because Mr. Sutter handled the sponsor requests personally.”
“Since when?”
“Since Wade Technologies offered an additional twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Laurel stared at her.
“Did that money arrive?”
June shook her head.
“It was pledged. Not paid.”
Of course it was.
Preston had always been generous with money he hadn't transferred yet.
Laurel closed the laptop.
“June, I need you to do something.”
“Anything.”
“Preserve every event record. Vendor approvals, sponsor requests, badge logs, access changes. Don't delete or alter anything.”
June frowned.
“You think someone inside the hotel helped him?”
“I think someone gave him information he shouldn't have.”
Before June could answer, a voice came from behind them.
“Then you should stop discussing it in hallways.”
Elias North stood near the service elevator.
Laurel turned.
“Do you always appear without warning?”
“Only when people are discussing confidential business.”
June made a small noise.
Laurel almost laughed.
“June, please check the keynote timing.”
Her assistant fled with remarkable efficiency.
Elias approached.
“You should know that Wade has requested a meeting with my investment director.”
“Tonight?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Laurel folded her arms.
“Then you should probably attend.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants something from you badly enough to sabotage someone he used to love.”
Elias considered that.
“Do you believe he loved you?”
The question caught her off guard.
For a moment, she saw Preston at twenty-eight, asleep on their apartment floor beside an unfinished prototype.
She remembered him crying when his first investor rejected him.
She remembered the way he had once held her face and promised they would build a life together.
“Yes,” she said finally.
“I think he did.”
“What changed?”
“He started confusing being admired with being loved.”
Elias said nothing.
Laurel looked toward the ballroom.
“What does Northline want with me?”
“A conversation.”
“About?”
“Running the events division of a hospitality portfolio we're considering acquiring.”
“The Halcyon?”
“Among other properties.”
She stared at him.
“You're buying my employer?”
“Not yet.”
“And you were going to offer me a job before speaking to me?”
“No. Your name was on a shortlist. I wanted to see how you worked before deciding whether to approach you.”
Laurel glanced down at her stained trousers.
“An excellent first impression.”
“The best one I've seen tonight.”
His answer was so matter-of-fact that she didn't know what to do with it.
Elias continued.
“Most people become very concerned with how they look when something goes wrong. You became concerned with whether your employee was injured.”
“He's a kid.”
“He's an employee.”
“He's both.”
Something shifted in Elias's expression.
Not quite a smile.
Something warmer.
Then his phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
His face hardened.
“Excuse me.”
He stepped away.
Laurel watched him answer.
“Daniel?”
A pause.
“Are you certain?”
Another pause.
“Don't contact Wade. Send it directly to legal.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” Laurel asked.
Elias looked at her.
“My security director found something unusual.”
“What?”
“Wade Technologies submitted a software proposal to Northline last month.”
Laurel knew about the proposal.
Preston had talked about it constantly before their breakup.
His company specialized in hotel operations software, including automated purchasing, vendor reconciliation, and event-management systems.
A Northline contract could make Wade Technologies worth hundreds of millions.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“The proposal included a demonstration environment.”
“And?”
“The demonstration contained transaction records from the Halcyon Grand.”
Laurel went still.
“That information is confidential.”
“Yes.”
“Preston shouldn't have it.”
“No.”
Elias watched her.
“Did you ever give him access to hotel systems?”
“Never.”
“Did you ever discuss your work with him?”
“Of course. General things. Schedules. Problems. Nothing confidential.”
“Did he ever use your laptop?”
Laurel hesitated.
Elias noticed.
“Ms. Hensley?”
“Two years ago, his computer died before an investor presentation. I let him borrow mine.”
“For how long?”
“A weekend.”
Elias's jaw tightened.
“Did it contain company credentials?”
“It was my personal laptop. I used it for work occasionally, through the hotel's remote-access portal.”
He said nothing.
Laurel felt sick.
“You think he copied something?”
“I think we should let investigators establish that.”
Before she could respond, the ballroom lights dimmed.
The first keynote was beginning.
Laurel glanced at her watch.
8:31.
She needed to return to work.
But Elias caught her attention with one final question.
“Did Wade ever ask you to leave your job?”
Laurel laughed without humor.
“Constantly.”
“Why?”
“He said my career was embarrassing.”
“Did he ever offer you a position at his company?”
“Yes. Chief of staff.”
“Did you accept?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he wanted someone to manage his calendar, organize his dinners, and smile beside him while he told investors he'd built everything himself.”
Elias looked toward the ballroom.
“And when you refused?”
“He told me I was afraid of success.”
A long silence followed.
Then Elias said, “I think he was afraid of yours.”
Laurel didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Because the possibility was too close to something she had spent years refusing to see.
At 9:03 p.m., the evening became even stranger.
The live-auction coordinator informed Laurel that the most valuable package had disappeared from the digital catalog.
A seven-day private coastal retreat.
Estimated value: $180,000.
Donated anonymously.
Laurel checked the administrative dashboard.
The package hadn't been deleted.
It had been reassigned.
To a new donor account.
She opened the account details.
The registered company was Hensley Strategic Consulting.
Her supposed consulting firm.
And beside the account was an internal note:
Authorized by C. Sutter — 7:11 p.m.
Laurel stared at the screen.
Caleb had approved the account before the allegations against her were reported.
Before Preston publicly confronted her.
Before anyone claimed the money was missing.
Then June appeared at her shoulder.
“Laurel?”
“What?”
“Security just found Ben.”
Laurel turned.
“Found him where?”
“In the employee parking garage.”
June's voice trembled.
“He says someone paid him five thousand dollars to spill that soup on you.”
May you like
Laurel's heart stopped.
“And he says he knows who gave him the money.”
