Chapter 3
"Keep an eye on Blair for me. I need to know everything she does," I said.
"Got it," Ashlyn replied.
After leaving the coffee shop, I slid into my car and dialed up Karl Phillips, the company's legal director.
"Karl, walk me through what needs to happen if I want to restructure the company's assets," I said.
He hesitated for a second. "Mrs. Harman, are you saying—"
"Just put together a plan for me. And keep it under wraps," I cut him off.
"Got it," Karl replied.
After hanging up, I started the car.
The steering wheel felt cold beneath my fingers.
Twelve years of marriage, twelve years of everything we shared, twelve years of building it all together.
It was all over.
But I wasn't going to cry.
Crying wouldn't fix a thing.
Right now, I needed to get all my pieces in place before Barry caught on.
Then, step by step, I'd drive him straight into checkmate.
When I got back to the company, I went to meetings, signed documents, and met with clients as usual.
No one noticed anything unusual about me.
At three o'clock, Barry sent me a message: [Dinner tonight?]
I replied: [Working late.]
He didn't reply.
At five thirty, the receptionist called my extension. "Mrs. Harman, Mr. Harman's sister is here. She says she needs to see you."
Freya Harman was here.
I set my pen down, a faint smile appearing on my lips.
Perfect timing.
"Send her to the meeting room," I said.
I adjusted my collar and stood up.
When I pushed open the meeting room door, Freya was sitting on the couch, one leg casually draped over the other, holding a cup of coffee the receptionist had made for her.
She smiled when she saw me. "Hey, Gwen, it's been a while."
"What brings you here?" I asked, sitting down across from her.
She set her cup down and leaned in a little. "It's nothing big. Barry mentioned lately that things between you two seem a little..."
"A little what?" I replied.
"A little distant," Freya said, eyeing me carefully. "He told me you've been working late a lot and barely even talking to him."
I smiled slightly. "The company's busy."
"Really?" She gave me a probing look. "I figured as much. You two have always been so close. How could anything be wrong?"
Close?
I felt incredibly ironic when I heard Freya say that Barry and I shared a close relationship.
She had known about Blair all along. She had been helping Barry keep me in the dark for three years.
And now she could sit right in front of me and say we "were so close" without even blinking.
The Harmans were all born actors.
"Did you come all this way only to ask me that?" I asked.
"Not exactly," Freya paused. "Next week is my mom's birthday. Barry said you might not come. I wanted to ask if you would be there."
"I'll be there," I replied.
She let out a sigh of relief. "Good. My mom keeps bringing you up."
Bringing me up?
Barry's mom was only worried that I wouldn't show up and that it would make things awkward for the family.
"Alright, I'll head out then," Freya said, standing up and grabbing her bag. "Gwen, if there's anything wrong, just talk to Barry about it.
"Don't give him the cold shoulder. Men can be a little careless sometimes. Try to be more understanding."
Careless, huh.
So cheating and having kids with another woman was being "careless" now?
I walked Freya to the door with a smile. "No need to worry, Freya. Everything's fine between us."
After she left, I closed the door, and the smile on my face faded away.
Freya showing up to poke around meant Barry was already starting to freak out.
He had no idea how much I knew, so he sent his sister to sniff things out.
Perfect.
Let him sweat.
The more nervous he got, the easier it would be for him to slip up.
*****
By eight o'clock, I was still at the office.
My phone lit up with a message from Ashlyn.
It read: [Got it. Blair's living in Belleview Gardens on the east side. It's a three-bedroom place with a living and dining area, and it's registered under her name.]
I replied: [How was it paid for?]
Ashlyn: [Paid in full, 1.5 million dollars. The money came from Dale's account.]
I let out a cold laugh.
It came from Dale's account, but the money was Barry's.
It all came from our company's profits in the end.
I asked: [Anything else?]
Ashlyn replied: [Blair's got a Porsche Cayenne in her name, bought last year. And she gets a steady ten grand every month, all transferred from Dale's account.]
A house, a car, and a steady stream of cash.
Barry made sure Blair was taken care of in every possible way.
I did the math. Just the things that were out in the open already added up to nearly two million dollars.
And what about the hidden expenses?
How much money had Barry siphoned out of the company over the past three years?
I texted: [Ashlyn, can you look into one more thing for me?]
Ashlyn replied: [Go ahead.]
[Is it possible to get all of Dale's bank transactions?]
[That's a bit tricky, but I'll see what I can do.]
[Please, I'm counting on you.]
Then I fired up my laptop and pulled up the company's financial records from the past three years.
I went through every single transaction, line by line, cross-checking everything.
By one in the morning, I had uncovered seven suspicious payments.
The total came to four million dollars.
Every single one was labeled as either "project consulting fees" or "marketing expenses."