Chapter 3
The next morning, I got my answer.
I went to the office to pick up the R&D tablet.
The tablet stored all the data for the new formula that was set to be filed next month, including stability records and raw material batches. Miranda Rios had reminded me the night before that she was gathering all the files, so it was best if I picked them up myself.
But when I got downstairs, the access control beeped, and the screen displayed a message. "Access denied."
The security guard recognized me, and his expression changed instantly.
"Ms. Rehbein, please wait. Let me check with the admin for you," he said.
I stood in front of the turnstile, employees streaming past me, their glances all landing on me.
Some recognized me and began whispering among themselves.
Others had no idea who I was, just figured I was some visitor who got held up at the gate.
I didn't make a scene or argue. I just pulled out my phone and called Francis.
He picked up right away.
But before Francis could say anything, I heard a woman's low, muffled laugh on the line.
It sounded really close.
So close, it felt like she was sitting right next to him.
My fingers went numb as I gripped my phone.
"Francis, where are you?" I asked.
"I'm in the office. What's wrong?" he replied.
"Who's with you?" I pressed.
"No one. I'm just reviewing procedures with the marketing team," he said, sounding totally casual.
I looked up at the glass wall of the 29th floor, my heart turning cold.
"Why is my access denied?" I asked.
"Denied?" He paused, clearly surprised. "That can't be right. Maybe admin was clearing out inactive users and accidentally removed you. I'll have them fix it right away."
"Are you sure it was just an accident?" I pressed.
"Of course," he replied.
The calmer Francis sounded, the more that woman's laugh lingered in my ear, sharp and unsettling.
I didn't ask anything else. I hung up, turned around, and got in the car.
The driver asked where I wanted to go.
"Not going back yet. Just wait here for a bit," I said.
Then I opened up the security dashboard on my phone.
Lumin Bio specialized in functional skincare, so both the R&D area and the executive offices had confidential surveillance. I was the one who made the call to install this system, and there were three levels of access. I always kept the top clearance for myself.
Normally, I couldn't be bothered to check it.
Today, for once, I realized this thing was actually pretty handy.
I pulled up the camera feed outside my office.
The next second, I spotted Kyla lounging on my couch, draped in my gray cashmere cardigan.
I'd forgotten that cardigan in the office lounge last winter.
She was barefoot, her toes painted a bright red, propped right up on the edge of the coffee table.
Francis was standing right next to her, holding a glass of water. As he handed it over, he casually ran his fingers through her hair, like it was second nature to him.
The way he did it was so familiar, like he'd done it countless times before.
I stared at the screen, my ears ringing.
Two minutes later, the door to the inner office swung open.
Francis walked in to answer his phone, and Kyla trailed after him, slipping her arms around his waist from behind.
He didn't push her away.
He just glanced down and patted her hand lightly.
As I stared at the screen, any trace of anger inside me just vanished.
All that was left was a cold emptiness.
Bitterly cold.
Like someone was pouring bucket after bucket of ice water over my head, until I was numb all over.
The security guard called me back soon after, saying admin had restored my access and wanted to know if I was still coming in.
I told him I wasn't.
Then I closed the security dashboard and shot Miranda a message.
[Meet me at the Old Factory café at noon.]
Miranda Rios was the company's CFO, and she'd been by my side for five years.
She never took sides—she only trusted the books.
And sometimes, the books were more honest than people ever could be.
At exactly noon, Miranda showed up with a brown paper bag.
She sat down and slid the bag across the table to me.
"These are copies of some documents from the past couple of weeks. Take a look," she said.
I pulled them out and started flipping through them one by one.
The more I read, the heavier my heart felt.
The first one was an internal authorization request.
It was pretty straightforward: for certain contracts in the Lumin Bio Live Streaming Division, instead of needing both my signature and Francis's, now only Francis's signature was required.
The second one was a proposal for the board of directors.
It was about setting up a new joint venture called Mi and Fr Tech, which would focus on e-commerce incubation and supply chain integration.
The live streaming traffic, influencer accounts, and certain trademark rights from Lumin Bio would gradually be injected into the new company.
The third one was the worst.
It was a doctor's note.
According to it, I was supposedly too unwell to handle company affairs and needed extended rest, so management should step in and take over my duties.
I recognized the hospital listed on the note.
I'd gone there for a hormone test just last month.
The note was a fake—the doctor's signature wasn't even my attending physician's.
But the hospital seal looked real enough to fool anyone at a glance.
I put the paper back and looked up at Miranda.
"Who handed this in?" I asked.
"Mr. Farmer's assistant brought it in," Miranda replied.
"Who gave the order?" I pressed.
"Admin, legal, and the board secretary all said it was under Mr. Farmer's instructions," Miranda said, pausing before adding, "And Kyla has been in and out of his office a lot these past two weeks—she even helped deliver board materials twice."
I couldn't help but laugh.
Unbelievable.
From posting that secret video of me online, to revoking my access, and now using a fake medical note to take away my authority.
Every step, perfectly chained together.
"Anything else?" I asked.
Miranda pulled out a USB drive from her bag.
"Starting last week, the company sent out three payments to the Mi and Fr Tech launch team, adding up to 2.6 million dollars. Supposedly for influencer contracts and setting up live streaming studios. I checked the account; it belongs to Kyla's brother," she said.
I gripped the USB drive so hard my knuckles turned white and the veins on the back of my hand stood out.
2.6 million dollars.
He was using my company's money to prop up her operation.
Francis really had some nerve.
Miranda looked at me and, for once, gave me a rare personal comment.
"Ms. Rehbein, I've been by your side for years.
"I know how you are. Mr. Farmer always kept things professional, so I never meddled in your personal affairs. But this time, you need to be ready. Don't wait."
I packed the documents up and put them back together.
"When's the board meeting?" I asked.
"Next Friday morning, right before the funding press conference. With the new brand launching and all the investors there, they want to get the proposal approved fast—so nobody has time to make trouble," Miranda replied.
I nodded quietly.
"Got it," I said.
My calmness made Miranda even more uneasy.
"Ms. Rehbein, are you alright?" she asked.
I picked up the cold Americano in front of me and took a sip.
It tasted bitter and astringent.
"I'm fine," I said.
"Honestly, I'm starting to think my taste in people wasn't so great."
After leaving the café, I didn't head home. Instead, I went straight to Kenelm's law firm.
Once Kenelm finished going through the documents, his first words were, "Francis is trying to scam you out of everything without lifting a finger."
His next comment was even more direct.
"And honestly, odds are he's been cheating on you for quite some time," Kenelm said.
I sat in Kenelm's office, staring at the pothos by the window, nearly scorched dry by the sunlight. After a long pause, I finally said, "I want a clearer picture. I need to know everything."
Kenelm nodded.
"Alright. I'll find someone for you," he replied.
"Check everything—accounts, real estate, vehicles, hotels, hospitals, phone records. If it can be investigated, do it," I told him.
I nodded and got up to leave.
Just as I reached the door, Kenelm called out to me.
"Clarissa," he said.
"You better be ready. Once the truth is out, it's going to be even dirtier than you think," he warned.
I stood with my back to Kenelm for a few seconds, feeling a cold resolve settle in my chest.
"I'm okay," I said. "Filth is best discarded."