Chapter 6 - Julia Wasn’t Mason’s GirlfriendClaire found Julia Mercer in less than an hour.
LinkedIn.
Former senior compliance analyst at Bennett Capital.
Employment ended three years ago.
Current position:
Financial compliance consultant in Philadelphia.
Claire stared at her photograph.
Same woman.
She called from a blocked number.
No answer.
Then she sent an email.
My name is Claire Bennett. I need to ask you about Mason Reed.
The response came eleven minutes later.
DO NOT CONTACT ME FROM YOUR HOME OR WORK EMAIL.
Claire’s stomach tightened.
Julia sent a secure-call link.
When Claire joined, Julia’s face appeared.
She looked forty.
Calm.
Guarded.
“You’re Owen’s wife.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re sleeping with Mason.”
Claire stopped.
“How do you know?”
Julia laughed without humor.
“Then I’m right.”
“Who told you?”
“Nobody.”
“How did you know?”
“Because that’s what Mason does when he needs access.”
Claire felt cold.
“What are you talking about?”
Julia looked away briefly.
“Mason and I were never together.”
“The photograph—”
“We worked late.”
“What happened?”
Julia leaned closer.
“Three years ago, I found irregular transfers from a hotel acquisition fund.”
Claire’s pulse increased.
“How much?”
“Four-point-two million.”
“Where?”
“Shell companies.”
“Who authorized them?”
“Mason’s department.”
“Did you accuse him?”
“I asked questions.”
“What happened?”
“I got fired.”
“By Owen?”
“Yes.”
Claire’s chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Because Mason showed him emails making it look like I was leaking confidential information to a competitor.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Did Owen investigate?”
“Not enough.”
Julia’s bitterness was controlled now.
That meant it had lived with her for years.
“Mason had access to my login credentials.”
“How?”
“He said IT needed them during a system migration.”
Claire thought about her own passcodes.
“What happened to the money?”
“Never found.”
“Did you report it?”
“To regulators.”
“And?”
“Bennett Capital’s lawyers convinced them it was an accounting dispute.”
Claire felt sick.
“Mason stole it?”
“I can’t prove it.”
“Then why contact me?”
“I didn’t.”
Claire remembered.
Unknown number.
“Someone sent me your photograph.”
Julia’s expression changed.
“What photograph?”
Claire forwarded it.
Julia stared.
Then:
“That came from my old file.”
“What?”
“Compliance investigation. Mason and I were photographed because Owen’s internal investigators followed us after the leak allegation.”
“Who would have access?”
“Owen.”
“Mason?”
“Maybe.”
“Who else?”
“Jonathan Pierce.”
The investment-committee chair.
Owen’s call the morning Mason hid in the bathroom.
Claire’s mind raced.
“Julia, did Mason ever use someone else’s identity to hold money?”
Julia went silent.
Then:
“Ask Owen about Allison Grant.”
“Who is that?”
“Former executive assistant.”
“What happened?”
“She disappeared from the company six months before I was fired.”
“Why?”
“Officially she resigned.”
“Unofficially?”
Julia looked directly at Claire.
“She was accused of opening an unauthorized corporate account.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“How much?”
“About nine million.”
“Was the account under her name?”
“Yes.”
Claire felt the pattern.
Woman with access.
Unauthorized account.
Money transferred.
Woman blamed.
“What happened to Allison?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Mason know her?”
“He knew everybody.”
“Were they involved?”
“I heard rumors.”
Claire’s stomach turned.
“Romantically?”
“Yes.”
Same method.
Maybe.
Or coincidence weaponized by whoever was texting her.
Julia added:
“Claire, if your name is attached to an account, get a lawyer before you tell anyone.”
“My husband?”
“Especially your husband.”
“Why?”
“Because Owen protects Bennett Capital first.”
Claire bristled.
“You don’t know our marriage.”
“No.”
Julia’s expression softened.
“But I know what happened when he had to choose between believing me and protecting his firm.”
Claire ended the call feeling worse.
She found Allison Grant next.
No LinkedIn.
No current corporate profile.
A voter record placed her in Maine.
Then nothing.
Claire called Mason.
No answer.
Owen came home at six.
She watched him enter the bedroom.
Suit.
Tie loosened.
Exhausted.
He kissed her forehead.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“How was your day?”
Claire almost laughed.
“My day?”
“Yeah.”
She looked at him.
“Did you fire a woman named Julia Mercer?”
Owen stopped.
The silence was immediate.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Answer me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She violated confidentiality.”
“She says Mason framed her.”
Owen’s expression changed.
“Who have you been talking to?”
“Did Mason frame her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You fired her.”
“Based on evidence.”
“Who gave you the evidence?”
Owen stared at her.
“Mason.”
There it was.
Claire’s pulse increased.
“What about Allison Grant?”
Owen sat down.
“Claire.”
“What happened to her?”
“Why are you asking about people who left my company years ago?”
“Because somebody put eighteen-point-seven million dollars into an account under my name.”
Owen became completely still.
No confusion.
No disbelief.
Fear.
Claire saw it.
“You knew.”
Owen stood.
“Show me.”
“You knew!”
“I knew money was missing. I did not know your name was attached.”
“Mason did.”
Owen’s face hardened.
“When did Mason tell you?”
Claire stopped.
Wrong question.
The affair stood behind every possible answer.
“Recently.”
“How recently?”
“Owen—”
His voice sharpened.
“When did Mason tell you?”
She looked at him.
Then away.
Owen watched her face.
Something in his expression slowly collapsed.
Not anger yet.
Understanding.
He stood very still.
“Claire.”
She couldn’t speak.
Owen whispered:
“Why would Mason be discussing confidential internal fraud with my wife?”
The room became silent.
Claire had spent seven months preparing lies for questions about where she had been.
May you like
She had never prepared for that one.
And Owen knew it.
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