Richard stared at it.
His face changed.
“You know what it is.”
“No.”
“You do.”
He looked toward the elevators.
Then toward the reception desk.
“Not here.”
We went into his office.
I closed the door.
“Room 417.”
Richard sat down.
“You found it.”
“Where is it?”
He hesitated.
“Behind the old east wing.”
“Why isn't it on the floor plan?”
“Because it isn't a guest room.”
“What is it?”
Richard looked at me.
“It was your father's private office.”
I froze.
“My father had an office here?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't I know?”
“Because he didn't want anyone to know.”
“Who knew?”
“Me. Martin. Graham. Evelyn.”
“Anyone else?”
Richard hesitated.
“James.”
I felt sick.
“Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
“Take me there.”
Richard shook his head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it was sealed after your father's death.”
“Who sealed it?”
“James.”
Of course.
I stood.
“Then we're opening it.”
Richard led us through the service corridor.
Behind the kitchen.
Past the laundry.
Through a locked maintenance door.
The hallway beyond was dark.
Old.
Unused.
We walked until we reached a steel door.
There was no number.
Richard removed a key.
Then stopped.
I held up my hand.
“I have one.”
I inserted the key.
It turned.
The door opened.
Dust filled the air.
Inside was a small office.
A desk.
Bookshelves.
A safe.
A telephone.
And a wall covered with photographs.
I walked closer.
My father.
Evelyn.
Martin.
Graham.
James.
Richard.
Dozens of others.
People I recognized.
People I didn't.
There were lines connecting them.
Dates.
Payments.
Locations.
It was a map.
A map of the entire company.
Daniel entered behind me.
“What is this?”
“My father's investigation.”
I moved closer.
At the center was one name.
JAMES WHITMORE
Around it were dozens of names.
Martin.
Graham.
Several regional managers.
Financial officers.
Contractors.
Lawyers.
And beneath James's name:
CONTROL THROUGH DEBT
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel examined the documents.
“Maybe he bought people.”
Richard shook his head.
“Not always.”
“Then what?”
“Sometimes he made them dependent.”
“On what?”
“Loans. Promotions. Contracts. Personal favors.”
I turned.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you still said nothing.”
Richard's face fell.
“I was afraid.”
I looked at the desk.
There was an old computer.
We turned it on.
The machine took several minutes.
Finally, the screen appeared.
One folder.
MAYA
I stared at it.
My name.
My father had created a folder for me.
Inside was a video file.
I pressed play.
My father's face appeared.
He looked tired.
Older than I remembered.
“Maya.”
I stopped breathing.
“If you're watching this, then I failed to protect you.”
I sat down.
“My company is being attacked from within.”
He paused.
“I need you to understand something.”
He looked directly into the camera.
“The people doing this are not interested in destroying Bennett Hospitality.”
He leaned closer.
“They want to own it without buying it.”
My heart pounded.
“They will make you believe they are helping you.”
He paused.
“Some will cry.”
“Some will apologize.”
“Some will tell you they are protecting you.”
I looked at Richard.
He looked away.
My father's voice continued.
“Do not trust anyone who asks you to stop looking.”
The video ended.
I stared at the blank screen.
Daniel whispered,
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“He knew exactly what was happening.”
“Yes.”
Richard was crying.
I looked at him.
“What did my father ask you to do?”
Richard wiped his face.
“Protect you.”
“Did you?”
“I tried.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You protected yourself.”
He didn't argue.
I turned back toward the computer.
There was another file.
FINAL TRANSACTION
We opened it.
A spreadsheet appeared.
Dates.
Amounts.
Accounts.
The final transaction had happened one day before my father's death.
It was enormous.
Twenty-eight million dollars.
Transferred from a Bennett Hospitality account to a private investment company.
The company was owned by...
James Whitmore.
I stared.
“That was the money.”
Daniel nodded.
“What money?”
“The money my father was trying to recover.”
Richard whispered,
“He was going to expose James.”
I looked at the screen.
Then I saw something else.
A note beside the transaction.
MAYA — TRUST ONLY THE PERSON WHO HAS NOTHING TO GAIN
I read it twice.
“Who does that mean?”
Richard shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Then the computer screen went black.
The lights went out.
Everything became dark.
Daniel immediately reached for his weapon.
Richard froze.
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Approaching.
Then the door opened.
A figure stood there.
For one second, I couldn't see the face.
Then the emergency light came on.
It was Martin Cross.
He looked at me.
And smiled.
“You should have left this alone.”
Martin
Martin Cross had been in my life for almost twenty years.
He had attended my father's funeral.
He had stood beside me when I took over the company.
He had advised me during my first acquisition.
He had congratulated me when I became chairwoman.
He had even attended Noah's seventh birthday party.
And now he stood in my father's secret office telling me I should have stopped asking questions.
I stared at him.
“You.”
He smiled.
“Yes.”
Daniel moved in front of me.
Martin raised his hands.
“Relax.”
“You broke into the office.”
“I have a key.”
“Not anymore.”
Daniel took it from him.
Martin didn't resist.
I looked at him.
“Were you involved?”
He sighed.
“With what?”
“My father's death.”
Silence.