Chapter 6 - THE FRIEND WHO KNEW TOO MUCHFor twenty-seven years, Thomas Greene had been one of our most trusted advisers.
He'd attended Jackson's high school graduation.
He'd held Frank's hand in the hospital during his final week.
He'd spoken at my husband's funeral.
When he retired, Frank gave him an engraved watch and called him “the brother I never had.”
So when Rebecca Hale told me not to trust Thomas, my first instinct was anger.
“You'd better have proof,” I said.
Rebecca's breathing shook.
“I do.”
Margaret motioned for me to keep the call going.
I switched to speakerphone.
“Rebecca, you're speaking with my attorney and my son. Tell us what you know.”
She hesitated.
“I don't know if Victor can hear this.”
“Where are you?”
“Richmond, Virginia.”
“Are you safe?”
“For now.”
Her voice cracked.
“After Savannah, I tried to rebuild my life. I changed jobs, moved twice, and stayed out of finance. But Victor never really let me go.”
“What does that mean?”
“He kept contacting me. At first, he demanded money. Then he wanted introductions to people I'd worked with.”
Jackson leaned forward.
“Why would you help him?”
“Because I made mistakes when I was young,” she whispered. “Serious mistakes. Victor kept copies of documents that could make me look responsible for everything.”
Margaret spoke.
“Rebecca, if you have relevant evidence, we can arrange for you to speak with investigators and independent counsel.”
“I want to,” Rebecca replied. “I'm tired of being afraid.”
Then she told us what had happened.
In early 2004, Victor had been coordinating payments through outside consulting companies.
Thomas Greene, then Whitmore Development's chief financial officer, had authority to approve certain financial arrangements.
Rebecca discovered discrepancies in invoices and reported them to Thomas.
Instead of investigating, Thomas instructed her to revise accounting entries.
When she questioned him, he allegedly told her the changes had been authorized by senior management.
Later, she realized the documents used to justify those changes contained fabricated signatures.
“I thought Thomas was protecting the company,” she said. “By the time I understood what was happening, my name was already on half the records.”
I stared at Margaret.
She was writing quickly.
“Do you have documents showing Thomas's involvement?” Margaret asked.
“Yes. Emails. Copies of instructions. Some original notes.”
“Why weren't they provided in 2004?”
Rebecca began crying again.
“Because I was terrified. And because I was guilty of helping them conceal entries before I understood the full scheme.”
There was a long silence.
Then she continued.
“Frank never knew everything. I gave Eleanor enough to challenge the forged approvals, but I kept some records because I was afraid Victor would destroy me.”
Jackson covered his face.
I felt sick.
Thomas had helped investigate the very accounting irregularities he may have participated in creating.
He had comforted Frank while potentially hiding his own involvement.
He had attended our family celebrations.
And the previous night, he'd sat across from us discussing Victor as though the man were merely an old acquaintance.
“Rebecca,” I said quietly, “why are you telling us now?”
“Because I saw Natalie in that wedding video.”
“What about her?”
“I recognized her.”
Jackson looked up sharply.
Rebecca drew a breath.
“Her name wasn't Natalie Brooks when I met her.”
My son went completely still.
“What?”
“She was Natalie Cole.”
He frowned.
“That was her mother's maiden name.”
Rebecca paused.
“Victor introduced her to me six years ago. She was working for a marketing agency then.”
I heard the fear in her voice.
“Victor called her his daughter, but he also called her his best investment.”
Jackson whispered, “No.”
Rebecca continued.
“She helped him research wealthy families. Trust structures. Personal relationships. Potential business partners.”
I felt a chill.
“And my son?”
“I don't know when they chose Jackson. But two years ago, Victor asked me about Frank Whitmore's estate.”
The room fell silent.
Rebecca said, “He wanted to know how much money Eleanor controlled.”
Jackson stood abruptly.
“That's enough.”
I looked at him.
“Darling—”
“No!”
He moved toward the window.
“I'm not listening to someone who admits she lied twenty years ago.”
Rebecca spoke softly.
“You're right not to trust me automatically, Jackson.”
That surprised him.
“But please check the evidence. Don't believe me because I sound convincing. Believe what can be proven.”
Margaret nodded approvingly.
“That's exactly what we're going to do.”
Rebecca agreed to meet investigators and provide the original records.
Before ending the call, she asked to speak to me privately.
I stepped into the hallway.
“Eleanor,” she whispered, “I'm sorry about Frank.”
My throat tightened.
“He died believing Thomas was his friend.”
“I know.”
“Why didn't you tell him?”
“I was a coward.”
There was no excuse in her voice.
Only regret.
“He tried to do the right thing, Eleanor. After the settlement, Frank kept investigating because he didn't want anyone else hurt.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know.”
Rebecca hesitated.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“Thomas wasn't just helping Victor move money.”
I waited.
“He was supposed to make sure your family trust was funded on Monday.”
My eyes opened.
That was true.
Thomas had agreed to attend the signing as a retired adviser familiar with our corporate structure.
I had invited him myself.
Rebecca continued.
“If the transfer went through Sterling, Thomas would receive a percentage.”
“How much?”
“Five percent of the funds they succeeded in diverting.”
Six million dollars.
I leaned against the wall.
Six million dollars to betray the family that had trusted him for nearly three decades.
When I returned to the office, Margaret looked at my face.
“What did she say?”
I told her.
Jackson stared at the carpet.
Then he said something I hadn't expected.
“Mom, I need to tell you something.”
I turned.
“What?”
His voice shook.
“Three months ago, Natalie asked me to recommend Thomas as the independent adviser for our trust.”
Margaret stopped writing.
Jackson swallowed.
“She said he'd make you feel comfortable because he knew Dad.”
My heart sank.
“Did Thomas approach you first?”
Jackson nodded.
“He called a few days later and said he'd be happy to help.”
I looked toward Frank's photograph on the desk.
His smile seemed almost unbearably familiar.
I remembered him telling me that betrayal rarely arrived wearing an enemy's face.
Usually, it came from someone who already had a key.
Just then, my phone buzzed.
A message from Thomas.
Eleanor, I've discovered something urgent about Sterling. Please meet me alone tonight. I don't want Jackson involved until we're certain.
I read it twice.
Then handed it to Margaret.
She stared at the screen.
“Do not respond yet.”
Another message appeared.
Frank would have wanted you to trust me.
I felt something inside me harden.
For decades, Thomas had used his friendship with my husband to gain my confidence.
Now he was using Frank's memory to manipulate me.
I looked at Margaret.
“He doesn't know Rebecca called.”
“No.”
“He doesn't know we've found Frank's files.”
“Not yet.”
I looked at my son.
Jackson's expression was devastated.
But beneath the pain, I saw something new.
Resolve.
“What do we do?” he asked.
Margaret closed her notebook.
“We cooperate with investigators, secure the documents, and let the evidence lead us.”
I nodded.
For the first time since waking up bald, I felt something stronger than humiliation.
I felt determined.
Then my phone rang again.
This time, the call came from an unfamiliar number.
I answered.
“Mrs. Whitmore?”
“Yes?”
“This is Detective Lauren Hayes with the Charleston Police Department.”
My stomach tightened.
“We've reviewed the hotel security footage related to your complaint.”
I held my breath.
“We identified the person who entered your suite.”
I looked at Jackson.
Detective Hayes continued.
“And Mrs. Whitmore, I think you need to sit down.”
I gripped the phone.
May you like
“Why?”
“Because the person holding the razor wasn't Natalie Brooks.”
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