Chapter 4 - The Mistress Had a PlanCissy Voss disappeared before noon.
Her apartment was empty.
Her company laptop had been left on the kitchen counter with the hard drive removed.
And the silver Bentley she loved posting on social media was found at the airport parking garage.
The irony?
That Bentley belonged to Meridian.
Technically, she had abandoned my car while stealing my corporate secrets.
By afternoon, our attorneys had obtained emergency court orders protecting the acquisition materials.
But the documents had already been copied.
Nobody knew where they were.
I sat in the secure conference room while Nathaniel’s digital forensics team reconstructed Cissy’s access history.
Rebecca paced.
“If those files reach Harlan Global, they’ll know our ceiling.”
I nodded.
Meridian had spent eighteen months negotiating the acquisition of Northstar Medical Systems.
Northstar manufactured critical surgical components in three American plants.
The company was profitable but overleveraged.
If Meridian purchased it, we intended to keep every facility open and preserve nearly four thousand jobs.
Our main competitor, Harlan Global, preferred a different strategy.
Acquire.
Strip assets.
Close plants.
Sell intellectual property.
If Cissy handed Harlan our confidential valuation models, we would lose our advantage.
“What was Cissy’s authorization level?” I asked.
Nathaniel looked embarrassed.
“Higher than it should have been.”
“Who approved it?”
Silence.
Then he answered.
“Preston.”
Of course.
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
You want the files? Meet me alone.
I stared at it.
Another message arrived.
You have something I want.
Rebecca read over my shoulder.
“No.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re thinking about going.”
“I’m thinking about what she wants.”
Ten seconds later, another message.
A photograph appeared.
It showed a document.
A signed share-option agreement.
Preston’s executive package.
Rebecca frowned.
“She wants Preston’s options?”
“Maybe.”
The options were currently frozen pending investigation.
If vested, they could eventually be worth more than $40 million.
But Cissy didn’t legally own them.
Then the final message arrived.
Preston promised these would be mine after the divorce.
I almost laughed.
Of course he had.
Apparently Preston had planned his new life with assets he did not yet own.
Rebecca shook her head.
“Do not meet her.”
“I’m not going alone.”
The meeting was arranged for that evening in a private lounge at the Mercer Hotel.
Cissy believed I came alone.
She didn’t know federal investigators had been contacted regarding potential theft of trade secrets.
She also didn’t know Rebecca was listening from the room next door.
Cissy arrived twenty minutes late.
She wore cream trousers, sunglasses, and confidence that seemed almost theatrical.
She sat across from me.
“You look tired.”
“So do you.”
She removed her sunglasses.
“I suppose neither of us slept.”
“Where are the files?”
She smiled.
“That’s not how negotiations work.”
“You’re not negotiating.”
“I have something you need.”
“And you committed multiple felonies obtaining it.”
Her expression flickered.
Only briefly.
Then she leaned back.
“Preston said you were dramatic.”
“Did he also tell you I own the company?”
That one hurt.
I saw it.
She recovered quickly.
“He told me eventually.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
Interesting.
So Preston had called her after the board materials circulated.
“What do you want?”
“The options transferred into my name.”
“Impossible.”
“Then Northstar gets the files.”
“You mean Harlan.”
For the first time, she looked genuinely surprised.
Good.
I continued.
“Harlan offered you money, didn’t they?”
She said nothing.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Did Preston know?”
Her silence answered.
This was bigger than an affair.
“Cissy, listen carefully. Preston may have convinced you he controls things he doesn’t. But threatening me will not change ownership law.”
“He promised me forty million dollars.”
“Then sue him.”
“He has nothing now.”
The bitterness in her voice was revealing.
Not heartbreak.
Money.
I looked at her.
“You weren’t planning to stay with him.”
She smiled faintly.
“Neither were you.”
I leaned forward.
“How long have you been dealing with Harlan?”
She stared.
“Get me the options.”
“No.”
“I release the files.”
“You already released something.”
Her confidence vanished.
I placed a printed email on the table.
Nathaniel had recovered it twenty minutes before I entered the hotel.
Cissy had used a private encrypted email service but had made one careless mistake.
She opened an attachment while connected through Meridian’s office network.
The server recorded the destination account.
Evan Harlan.
Son of Harlan Global’s chairman.
Cissy stood.
“This meeting is over.”
I remained seated.
“You should stay.”
“Why?”
The door opened.
Two investigators entered.
Cissy froze.
One displayed credentials.
“Ms. Voss, we need to speak with you regarding potential theft of protected commercial information.”
Her face drained.
She looked at me.
“You set me up.”
“No.”
I stood slowly.
“You set yourself up.”
She turned toward the exit.
Then she stopped and looked back.
“You think Preston is the villain?”
I stared at her.
She smiled strangely.
“You really don’t know him.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
She said nothing.
The investigators escorted her away.
Rebecca entered moments later.
“What did she mean?”
“I don’t know.”
But I did know one thing.
Cissy was frightened.
Not of prison.
Not of me.
Of something else.
That night, Nathaniel called.
“We found another hidden company.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
Owned through nominee directors.
Funded by Meridian transfers.
One had purchased a property in Monaco.
Another held a yacht.
The third had transferred millions to a private bank in Luxembourg.
“And the fourth?”
Nathaniel hesitated.
“That’s the strange one.”
“What does it own?”
“Life insurance.”
I stopped.
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
Silence filled my office.
“How much?”
“One hundred million dollars.”
My fingers went numb.
“Who is the beneficiary?”
Nathaniel exhaled.
“Not Preston directly.”
“Who?”
“An offshore trust we haven’t fully identified.”
I walked toward the window.
The lights of Hawthorne House reflected against the glass.
Suddenly, the affair seemed different.
The missing money seemed different.
Everything did.
“How long has the policy existed?”
“Fourteen months.”
Fourteen months.
Around the time Preston first started insisting I join him on the company jet for more trips.
Around the time he began suggesting I spend more time at our lake property.
Around the time the brakes on my car mysteriously failed and the dealership blamed a defective line.
I closed my eyes.
“Nathaniel.”
“Yes?”
“Pull every security record from my vehicles, aircraft bookings, medical files, and property logs for the last eighteen months.”
He became silent.
Then quietly:
“Lorraine… what do you think happened?”
I looked across the empty bedroom toward the photograph I had turned facedown.
“I don’t know yet.”
But for the first time since the banquet, my anger disappeared.
Something colder replaced it.
Fear.
May you like
Because maybe Preston had not simply been preparing to leave me.
Maybe he had been preparing for a future in which I wasn’t alive to stop him.
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