But there was something he did not tell Richard.
The final message had contained a photograph.
It showed Ethan's truck parked outside his house.
The photograph had been taken from across the street.
He had deleted it.
Then recovered it.
Then saved it somewhere safe.
He didn't know whether the sender was trying to frighten him or simply make him understand that they were watching.
Either way, Ethan refused to panic.
At 7:30, the new negotiation committee met for the first time.
There were nine people.
Ethan.
Richard.
Maria.
Two engineers.
A finance representative.
A union representative.
A legal adviser.
And Martin Bell.
Patricia Sloan was absent.
The president opened the meeting.
“We have thirty days.”
Martin corrected him.
“Twenty-nine.”
Everyone looked at him.
“The client wants a final agreement before the end of the month.”
Ethan nodded.
“Then we start today.”
They divided the work.
The engineers would review the technical requirements.
Finance would reconstruct the original cost calculations.
Legal would compare the old and new contract language.
The employee representatives would document staffing and maintenance concerns.
Ethan volunteered to coordinate everything.
For the first week, the committee worked twelve-hour days.
The deeper they went, the worse the situation looked.
Maintenance costs had been classified under several different accounting categories.
Some had been moved into “efficiency investments.”
Others had been deferred.
Several replacement schedules had been altered without corresponding engineering approval.
And the bonus formula had been designed in a way that made employee payouts almost meaningless whenever management reduced operating costs.
Four cents was not a mistake.
It was a mathematical consequence.
One afternoon, Maria put the spreadsheet on the table.
“Look at this.”
Ethan leaned over.
“What?”
“This line.”
She pointed to a cost category.
“External operational consulting.”
Ethan frowned.
“Who is the consultant?”
Maria shook her head.
“We're still trying to find out.”
“How much?”
She turned the screen.
Ethan's eyes widened.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
“That much money?”
“Yes.”
“Every year?”
Maria nodded.
Ethan leaned back.
“Where does it go?”
“We don't know.”
Martin entered the room.
“What are you looking at?”
Maria showed him.
Martin became very still.
“I've seen that account.”
“Do you know who receives it?”
“No.”
“You're the CFO.”
“I know.”
Ethan looked at him.
“How can you not know?”
“Because it was created before I took over the division.”
Martin opened another file.
“The payments were approved through a subsidiary.”
“Which one?”
Martin typed.
Then stopped.
His face changed.
“What?”
“I need to check something.”
He left.
Ethan and Maria exchanged glances.
Twenty minutes later, Martin returned carrying a folder.
He placed it on the table.
“The consulting company is owned by a holding group.”
“So?”
“The holding group has three directors.”
“Who?”
Martin looked at Ethan.
“One is Patricia Sloan.”
Nobody spoke.
The second director was a retired executive.
The third was unknown.
“Who is the third?” Ethan asked.
Martin turned the page.
His expression became even darker.
“Daniel Sloan.”
“Related?”
“Her brother.”
Ethan stared at the document.
Maria whispered:
“That means the company has been paying them.”
“Potentially,” Martin said carefully.
“How much?”
“Almost eight million dollars over four years.”
Ethan stood.
“Eight million?”
Martin nodded.
“That explains the missing margin.”
“But why?”
Martin looked exhausted.
“Because the consulting fees were recorded as operational expenses.”
“And the executive bonus was calculated after those expenses.”
“Yes.”
Ethan walked toward the window.
Eight million dollars.
The plant had been told it needed to cut maintenance.
Workers had received four cents.
Meanwhile, millions had flowed into a company connected to an executive.
He turned.
“We need proof.”
Martin nodded.
“I'm already collecting it.”
That evening, Ethan received another message.
Stop digging.
He stared at the phone.
Then another.
You have until Friday.
He looked at the date.
Friday was three days away.
He showed Maria.
She immediately called security.
But before security arrived, a third message appeared.
This one contained a photograph of Emma leaving school.
Ethan's blood went cold.
He stood so quickly that his chair fell backward.
“Call the police.”
Maria did.
Ethan left the building before security could stop him.
He drove straight to Emma's school.
He found her at the front entrance.
She was talking to a friend.
She saw him.
“Dad?”
Ethan got out of the truck.
“Get in.”
Her smile disappeared.
“What happened?”
“Just get in.”
She obeyed.
They drove home in silence.
After locking the doors, Ethan finally told her what was happening.
Emma listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she asked:
“Are they dangerous?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you scared?”
Ethan hesitated.
“Yes.”
Emma looked at him.
“Then we should tell someone.”
“We will.”
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“You always tell me that being scared doesn't mean you stop doing the right thing.”
Ethan smiled faintly.
“I did say that.”
“Then don't stop.”
That night, Ethan contacted the police.
The messages were documented.
Security was increased at the factory.
And the committee meeting was moved to a secure office.
But something had changed.
This was no longer just a dispute about a contract.
Someone was willing to intimidate Ethan's family to protect whatever was hidden inside Briar Ridge's finances.
And Ethan knew they had only twenty-eight days left.
Chapter 8
The Missing Eight Million
By Friday morning, the factory was surrounded by rumors.
Everyone knew something serious had happened.
Nobody knew exactly what.
Ethan did not tell the employees about the threats.
He didn't want panic.
Instead, he focused on the documents.
The committee had hired an independent forensic accountant.
Her name was Helen Carter.
She arrived at Briar Ridge carrying two laptops and three boxes of files.
She spent the first day saying almost nothing.
She reviewed invoices.
Bank records.
Consulting agreements.
Purchase orders.
Bonus calculations.
Then, at 4:40 p.m., she asked Ethan to join her.
“I found something.”
Ethan sat down.
Helen turned the laptop around.
“The consulting payments are real.”
“We know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You know the payments existed.”
She pointed at the screen.
“I found where the money went afterward.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“Where?”
“Several accounts.”
“Whose?”
“That's the interesting part.”
Helen opened another document.
“The first company is owned by Daniel Sloan.”
Ethan nodded.
“Patricia's brother.”
“Yes.”
“The second is owned by another company.”
“Who owns that?”