“No. Compliance flagged it six weeks ago. I didn’t even know he worked for us until you said his full name.”
Rowan had spent two years boasting that his chairman was “an old dinosaur who wouldn’t recognize talent if it shook his hand.”
Dad gave a thin smile. “I recognize fraud fairly well.”
Monday morning, I was discharged. Dad came home with me and refused to leave until I got some sleep.
Three hours later, Rowan’s key turned in the front door. He walked in carrying leftover birthday cake and wearing that watch.
Then his eyes moved toward the living room.
My father was sitting in the rocking chair, peacefully holding Leo.
Rowan stopped dead. The cake box slipped from his hands.
“Mr. Sterling?”
Dad looked up. “Hello, Rowan.”
And I watched my husband’s face turn completely white.
PART 3
Rowan stared between my father and me, utterly stunned. “Phoebe,” he whispered, “you know Gideon Sterling?”
Dad gently adjusted Leo against his shoulder. “She’s my daughter.”
Rowan’s mouth fell open. No words came out. Then panic replaced the shock. “Sir, whatever she told you—”
“Careful,” I said.
He turned toward me. “This is a misunderstanding.”
I set three folders down on the coffee table. “Which part? Leaving me in labor? The eighty-six thousand dollars you transferred to your mother? The forged loan guarantee? Or the undisclosed vendor relationship your compliance department is already investigating?”
His expression crumbled. “You went through my accounts?”
“Our accounts,” I corrected. “I’m a forensic accountant, Rowan. You married one and somehow decided fraud was a good hobby.”
The front door opened once more. Mabel walked in with a process server.
Rowan stared at the documents placed in his hands. Petition for legal separation. Notice disputing the forged guarantee. Demand for preservation of financial records.
