Chapter 2 - THE SECRET INSIDE BRAXTON’S COMPANY
The first thing I did after my attorney called was ask him one question.
“Are you absolutely certain?”
His answer came without hesitation.
“Yes.”
I stared through the tinted window as the city disappeared behind me.
“What did you find?”
“Not something I want to discuss over the phone.”
I looked at my driver.
“Take me to the office.”
“Already on the way,” he said.
I leaned back and closed my eyes.
For two years, I had deliberately kept my real identity away from Braxton.
Not because I wanted to deceive him.
Because I wanted to know whether he loved me without knowing what my last name could buy him.
When we met, I had been very clear about one thing.
“I don't care about money.”
Braxton had smiled and said that was exactly what he liked about me.
He told me his family had money too, but not the kind that made them arrogant.
He told me his mother had raised him to believe that character mattered more than wealth.
I believed him.
Or perhaps I simply wanted to.
The truth was that I had fallen in love with the version of Braxton he showed me.
The man who brought me coffee when I worked late.
The man who remembered my mother's birthday.
The man who once spent three hours helping my father repair a broken fence.
The man who told me he didn't care where I came from.
But people reveal themselves when they believe there is nothing left to gain.
And that morning, Braxton had revealed himself.
By the time my car reached Apex Capital's headquarters, my father was waiting in the private conference room.
He stood when I entered.
“Teresa.”
I hugged him.
“Dad.”
He looked at my face.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did his mother?”
I gave him a tired smile.
“Her contract did.”
My father sighed.
“I warned you.”
“I know.”
“You didn't listen.”
“I wanted to believe him.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
My mother entered a moment later.
She didn't ask questions.
She simply hugged me.
That was why I loved my parents.
They never needed explanations before offering support.
My attorney, Michael Grant, waited beside the conference table.
A thick black folder sat in front of him.
I sat down.
“What did you find?”
Michael opened the folder.
“Braxton's company has been in financial trouble for approximately eighteen months.”
I wasn't surprised.
“I knew about the debt.”
“Not all of it.”
He pushed several pages toward me.
“There are undisclosed liabilities.”
“How much?”
“Approximately eleven point six million dollars.”
My mother inhaled sharply.
My father frowned.
I remained calm.
“That's not enough to explain the investment application.”
“No.”
Michael turned another page.
“There are also payments from company accounts to three consulting entities.”
“Related parties?”
“Yes.”
“Who owns them?”
Michael looked at me.
“Braxton.”
I felt something inside me settle.
“What kind of payments?”
“Consulting fees.”
“How much?”
“Approximately two million dollars over the last eighteen months.”
I leaned forward.
“Where did the money go?”
“That is the problem.”
Michael slid a spreadsheet across the table.
“Most of it moved into accounts associated with a private investment vehicle called Northstar Equity.”
I stared at the name.
“Who owns Northstar?”
“We haven't established that yet.”
“Then what did you confirm?”
Michael's expression became serious.
“Your husband appears to have been transferring money out of his company and disguising the transfers as consulting expenses.”
My father leaned forward.
“Fraud?”
“We're not making that conclusion yet.”
Michael looked at me.
“But the records are concerning.”
I studied the spreadsheet.
Something caught my attention.
“Wait.”
I pointed.
“This transfer.”
“Which one?”
“May 14.”
Michael checked.
“$480,000.”
“Why is it marked as a legal expense?”
“We don't know.”
“Who was the attorney?”
Michael turned the page.
“Brenda Whitmore.”
I looked up.
“My mother-in-law?”
“Yes.”
Silence filled the room.
My mother shook her head.
“Why would Braxton's company pay his mother almost half a million dollars?”
“That,” Michael said, “is exactly what we need to find out.”
I looked at my father.
He already understood.
“You think Brenda is involved?”
“I think we shouldn't assume anything.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
Michael closed the folder.
“There is another problem.”
“Of course there is.”
“The investment proposal Braxton submitted to Apex included projections based on revenue that doesn't appear to exist.”
I stared at him.
“How much?”
“Twenty-eight million dollars.”
My eyebrows rose.
“His company claims it has contracts worth twenty-eight million.”
“And?”
“We couldn't verify three of the largest contracts.”
My stomach tightened.
“Fake contracts?”
“Potentially.”
I sat back.
For the first time, anger replaced disappointment.
Not because Braxton had lied to me.
Because if these documents were fraudulent, other people could be affected.
Employees.
Investors.
Clients.
People who trusted the company.
“Michael.”
“Yes?”
“Freeze every pending transaction involving Braxton's company.”
He nodded.
“I already instructed compliance.”
“Notify the board.”
“Already done.”
“Do not let my personal relationship influence the investigation.”
My father looked at me.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“If he committed fraud, he needs to answer for it.”
My mother touched my arm.
“And if he didn't?”
“Then the investigation will prove that too.”
Michael nodded.
“That is exactly how we're proceeding.”
My phone vibrated.
Braxton.
I stared at his name.
My mother watched me.
“You don't have to answer.”
“I know.”
I answered anyway.
“Hello?”
His voice came immediately.
“Teresa, what the hell did you do?”
I almost smiled.
“I left.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
“You called my office?”
“I didn't.”
“Apex froze our application.”
“That's not my department.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“Then why did Michael Grant call my CFO?”
I remained silent.
He understood.
“You told them.”
“I gave them nothing.”
“Then how did they know?”
I looked at the folder.
“Maybe someone finally looked.”
His breathing changed.
“Teresa, listen to me.”
“I am.”
“You don't understand the situation.”
“I understand enough.”
“No, you don't.”
His voice became softer.
“We can fix this.”
“Can we?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Come home.”
I laughed quietly.
“That house isn't my home.”
“Then I'll change the contract.”
I closed my eyes.
“You still don't understand.”
“I'll tear it up.”
“It's not about the contract.”
“Then what is it about?”
“Everything it revealed.”
Silence.
Finally, he whispered,
“You're really going to leave me?”
“Yes.”
“You're serious.”
“Yes.”
“After everything?”
I almost asked him what everything meant.
The wedding?
The two years?
The lies?
The insults?
The financial scheme?
Instead, I said:
“You should talk to your attorney.”
He hung up.
I stared at the phone.
Then Michael's assistant rushed into the room.
“Teresa.”
I looked up.
She was holding another folder.
“We found something else.”
“What?”
She placed it on the table.
“An email.”
“From whom?”
“Braxton.”
“To whom?”
She hesitated.
“Your mother-in-law.”
I opened it.
There were only three lines.
Once the marriage is official, she will have no reason to refuse.
The investment should be approved within thirty days.
Then another message.
And if she resists, I'll use the house agreement.
I read it twice.
My mother looked at me.
“What does it mean?”
I slowly closed the folder.
“It means the marriage may have been part of the business plan.”
Nobody spoke.
Then my father said quietly:
“Teresa.”
I looked at him.
“You need to find out what else he planned.”
I nodded.
Because suddenly, the rent contract made sense.
It wasn't about three thousand dollars.
It was about control.
If I signed it, I would be acknowledging financial dependence.
If I later objected to his business dealings, he could portray me as an unstable wife trying to interfere with his finances.
And if he convinced me to invest my own money into his company, he could gain access to far more than three thousand dollars.
The marriage wasn't the trap.
The contract was.
And Braxton had underestimated the one thing his family never knew about me.
May you like
I had spent my entire adult life learning how wealthy people protect themselves from people who want their money.
Now I was going to use every lesson.
