Chapter 4 - The Truth About VictorMy Best Friend Had Been Robbing Me for Years
Victor didn't look angry.
That made it worse.
He looked disappointed.
Like a teacher watching a student make the same mistake for the fifth time.
"You should have left the country," he said.
I stayed near the desk.
"What did you do to Claire?"
"Nothing."
"Where is she?"
"I told you. I don't know."
"Then why do you have her photograph?"
Victor sighed.
"You think this is about your marriage."
"It isn't?"
"No."
He stepped closer.
"This is about the company."
I laughed.
"You've stolen millions from me."
"From the company."
"Same thing."
"No."
Victor's expression hardened.
"Not anymore."
The two men behind him moved closer.
I glanced at the office door.
Locked.
"Where's Hope?"
Victor didn't answer.
I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
"You know where she is."
"I know where she isn't."
"What does that mean?"
"It means Claire was smart enough not to tell me."
"Then why are you here?"
Victor leaned over the desk.
"Because she told me you would eventually find the ledger."
"How?"
"Because Claire knows you."
My jaw clenched.
"Claire hates me."
"She doesn't."
Victor laughed softly.
"That's what makes her dangerous."
He pulled a chair from the corner.
"Sit."
I remained standing.
"Sit, Daniel."
I sat.
Victor placed a folder on the desk.
Inside were photographs of me.
Me at the hotel.
Me at Samantha's apartment.
Me leaving restaurants.
Me transferring money.
But there were other photographs too.
Claire.
Claire meeting attorneys.
Claire entering a bank.
Claire talking to police.
Claire meeting Margaret Hale.
Claire standing outside a hospital.
I stared at the photographs.
"Why were you following her?"
"Because she was following us."
Us.
I looked up.
"Who is us?"
Victor didn't answer.
One of the men behind him stepped forward.
Victor raised a hand.
"Enough."
Then he looked at me.
"You signed every document."
"What documents?"
"The acquisition agreements. The shell-company transfers. The offshore accounts."
"I didn't know."
"That's irrelevant."
"Where is the money?"
Victor smiled.
"Ask Claire."
I stood.
"You're going to tell me where my wife is."
"Your wife is not the problem."
He slid one final paper across the desk.
I read it.
My name appeared beside a number.
$4,800,000.
Below it was a signature.
Mine.
My stomach dropped.
"I never signed this."
Victor stared at me.
"You did."
"No."
"You just don't remember."
"What is this?"
"A loan."
"From whom?"
Victor's expression changed.
"Your father."
I froze.
"My father is dead."
"I know."
Victor tapped the paper.
"That's the problem."
A noise came from the hallway.
Someone had entered the building.
Victor looked toward the door.
His face lost its confidence.
"You're not alone," I whispered.
He stood.
"Neither are they."
The lights suddenly went out.
Gunfire erupted somewhere downstairs.
The men beside Victor drew weapons.
I dropped behind the desk.
People shouted.
Glass shattered.
Victor yelled something I couldn't hear.
Then someone grabbed me from behind.
I fought.
A hand covered my mouth.
A woman's voice whispered in my ear.
"If you want Hope alive, stop fighting."
I froze.
I turned.
Claire.
Her hair was pulled back.
She looked thinner.
Exhausted.
But alive.
And she was holding a gun.
She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
May you like
Then she whispered,
"You were never supposed to find me this soon."
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