Chapter 5 - The Lover Who Knew Her PasswordClaire did not confront Mason immediately.
For the first time since the affair began, she treated him the way he had apparently been treating her.
As a source of information.
She called the next morning.
“I’m sorry.”
Mason was quiet.
“For what?”
“Yesterday.”
“Claire…”
“I panicked.”
“You should panic.”
“That helps.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She softened her voice.
“I don’t want us fighting.”
Another pause.
Then Mason said:
“Neither do I.”
The ease with which they returned to intimacy frightened her.
“Can we meet?”
“Not at the house.”
“Obviously.”
They chose a small café in New Canaan.
Public.
Quiet.
Claire arrived first.
Mason came ten minutes later wearing a dark coat.
He sat opposite her.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean tired.”
“Still flattering.”
He smiled.
For one second, she remembered why she had fallen into this.
Mason made tension feel personal.
Owen made tension feel operational.
Then Claire remembered $18.7 million.
“Show me the account.”
Mason hesitated.
“You said it’s under my name.”
“It is.”
“Show me.”
He opened his laptop.
The records matched what Claire found.
Transfers from three Bennett Capital investment vehicles.
The money landed in Bennett Strategic Holdings.
Beneficial owner: Claire Bennett.
“I didn’t sign this.”
“I believe you.”
“Yesterday you didn’t.”
“Yesterday I said I considered every possibility.”
“Convenient distinction.”
Mason leaned closer.
“Claire, listen.”
She let him.
“The transfer authorization used Owen’s deputy-level token.”
“Owen’s?”
“Someone with access to it.”
“Who has access?”
“Owen.”
“Obviously.”
“Me.”
Claire stared.
“And?”
“Jonathan Pierce. Two operations executives.”
“So you could have done it.”
“Yes.”
He answered too easily.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because if I stole eighteen million dollars, I wouldn’t put it under the name of the woman I’m sleeping with.”
Claire’s expression hardened.
“Maybe you would if you wanted someone else blamed.”
Mason sat back.
“That’s what you think of me?”
“I didn’t know you thought I might be stealing from my husband.”
“Fair.”
Claire took out her phone.
“Tuesday. Eleven forty-two.”
Mason’s face changed.
“What?”
“The biggest transfer.”
He understood.
“We were together.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“Your phone was beside the bed.”
“You think I moved eighteen million dollars while having sex with you?”
“There was no sex at eleven forty-two.”
His jaw tightened.
“You went to the bathroom.”
Mason stared.
Claire remembered now.
Seven or eight minutes.
He had taken his phone.
He said he was answering an email.
When he returned, he kissed her and suggested they sleep.
Forty minutes later, the car approached.
Owen came home.
“You accessed the account from my bathroom.”
“No.”
“Then show me your phone.”
Mason laughed once.
“What?”
“Show me.”
“No.”
Her answer arrived.
Claire stood.
Mason grabbed her wrist lightly.
“Sit.”
She looked down at his hand.
He released her.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Claire, there is confidential company data on my phone.”
“You’ve been inside my bed for seven months.”
“That doesn’t make you a Bennett Capital auditor.”
“No. It makes me stupid.”
Mason’s expression softened.
“I care about you.”
She hated the sentence.
“Then tell me the truth.”
“I am.”
“Did you know my passwords?”
“No.”
“My phone passcode?”
“Yes.”
Claire stopped.
She had never intentionally told him.
He had seen her use it.
“Did you ever unlock my phone while I was asleep?”
“No.”
“Laptop?”
“No.”
“My husband’s study?”
“No.”
“Then why were you in my bathroom for eight minutes Tuesday?”
“Work.”
“What work?”
Mason looked away.
Claire felt the answer forming before he spoke.
“I was checking the transfer.”
“From my house?”
“I got an alert.”
“Why not tell me?”
“Because I realized your identity was attached.”
Claire stared.
“And then Owen came home.”
“Yes.”
“So when you told me not to mention the money, you were already terrified because you had just discovered my name.”
“Yes.”
It was plausible.
That was what made it dangerous.
Claire sat again.
“What do we do?”
“Nothing yet.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“Someone used my identity.”
“If we move too early, whoever did it destroys evidence.”
“Or you destroy evidence.”
Mason’s face hardened.
“If you believe that, go to Owen.”
Claire looked at him.
“Maybe I will.”
Something flashed in Mason’s eyes.
Fear.
Real this time.
Then it vanished.
“Do what you need to do.”
Claire left.
On the drive home, she realized Mason had made a mistake.
He said he received an alert Tuesday.
But yesterday he told her he discovered the account three weeks ago.
Both could be true.
He could have known about the account, then received the latest-transfer alert.
Yet why hadn’t he frozen it?
Why had Bennett Capital allowed additional millions to move into an account he believed fraudulent?
At home, Claire went straight to Owen’s study.
She had almost never entered without him.
His desk drawers were locked.
His filing cabinets too.
Then she saw a small black device behind his monitor.
A security key.
Claire didn’t touch it.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One image.
Claire and Mason entering the New Canaan café separately.
Photographed from across the street.
A second image.
Mason touching Claire’s wrist.
Then a message:
YOUR HUSBAND ISN’T THE ONLY ONE WATCHING YOU.
Claire’s mouth went dry.
WHO IS THIS?
The response came immediately.
ASK MASON WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FIRST WOMAN HE USED.
Claire stared at the words.
FIRST WOMAN?
Another photograph arrived.
Mason.
Three years younger.
Standing beside a blonde woman Claire had never seen.
Underneath:
May you like
HER NAME WAS JULIA.
SHE LOST EVERYTHING.
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