Chapter 6 - DONOVAN PACIFICOwen Rourke called me before Mason did.
That mattered.
“Claire.”
His voice carried the exact amount of concern.
“I heard.”
“About the kiss?”
Pause.
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
“Mason.”
I almost laughed.
“What did he say?”
“That you left.”
“Did he say why?”
Another pause.
“Not really.”
Liar.
Maybe.
“I need to ask you about the Pacific Meridian loan.”
Silence.
Longer.
“Who told you?”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Claire, business matters are complicated.”
There it was.
The sentence men use before explaining why your signature appears on something you never saw.
“Is my name on Donovan Pacific financing documents?”
“Some historical paperwork.”
“Did I authorize it?”
“You authorized investment activity.”
“Not what I asked.”
Owen sighed.
“You should speak to Mason.”
“He isn’t speaking.”
“That’s unusual.”
“Yes.”
I waited.
Owen lowered his voice.
“Do not sign anything Dana gives you.”
I froze.
“How do you know Dana is involved?”
Silence.
“Who told you?”
“Claire—”
I ended the call.
Five minutes later I called Dana.
“Owen knows you’re representing me.”
“Could come from Mason.”
“Why warn me against signing?”
Dana’s face changed.
“He may be worried about separation documents.”
“Why?”
“Because formal separation changes legal positions.”
The company’s problems began emerging.
One failed coastal resort.
Overextended land purchase.
Bridge financing.
Intercompany loans.
Then three LLCs with bland names:
Harbor Crest Management.
Mariner Technical Services.
Westcliff Advisory.
Each received large payments from Donovan Pacific subsidiaries.
Real entities.
Real services.
But ownership connections were strange.
Westcliff ultimately traced to an investment trust associated with Owen’s brother-in-law.
Harbor Crest used the same registered agent as another company Owen controlled.
Not proof of theft.
Conflict.
Potential self-dealing.
Margaret’s specialty.
Mason had hired her because he suspected Owen.
That was now the obvious explanation.
But obvious worried me.
“Why not hire a forensic accounting firm openly?”
I asked Dana.
“Maybe he did not trust company systems.”
“Why cash?”
“Maybe confidentiality.”
“Why kiss her?”
“That has nothing to do with Owen unless your separation does.”
Everything returned to the same point.
Mason wanted me out.
Then Travis discovered Donovan Pacific’s audit committee had scheduled a special review for the following Monday.
Five days after the kiss.
Our house appeared on a list of potential record-preservation locations because Mason sometimes worked from home.
I read it twice.
“Would investigators search the house?”
“Not necessarily,” Dana said. “This is internal review so far.”
“But documents could be requested.”
“Yes.”
I thought about Mason telling me:
Stay somewhere else tonight.
Not:
I need space.
Not:
I’m sorry.
Stay somewhere else.
“Maybe he wanted me physically away from the house.”
Dana looked at me.
“Why?”
I didn’t know.
Then the answer became worse.
Travis found a household contractor named Paul Givens.
Maintenance.
Security upgrades.
Occasional deliveries.
Donovan Pacific had also paid a company linked to him.
Small amounts.
Consulting.
No obvious reason.
“He works at our house,” I said.
“And for Mason’s company.”
“Did Mason know?”
“Unknown.”
There it was again.
Unknown.
The word had become my enemy.
That evening Mason finally called.
I stared at his name until Dana said:
“Answer.”
I did.
“What?”
His voice was low.
“Are you safe?”
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
“From your sixty-six-year-old girlfriend?”
“She isn’t my girlfriend.”
“Then explain.”
“No.”
Something in me broke again.
“Do you have any idea what you did to me?”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
“I need you to stay away from the house.”
There.
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You mean won’t.”
Silence.
“Did you approve a loan using my signature?”
Another silence.
That one longer.
“Mason.”
“I’m trying to fix it.”
My whole body went cold.
“So you knew.”
“I know now.”
“When did you know?”
“Claire—”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
Two months.
He had slept beside me for two months.
Made coffee.
Planned vacations.
Touched me.
Loved me.
All while knowing my name had been used inside a nine-million-dollar loan.
“You had sixty days.”
“I know.”
“You could have told me sixty times.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
His answer came quietly.
“Because if I told you, you would have stayed.”
I could barely speak.
“And?”
“And I needed you gone before Monday.”
The call ended.
I stared at Dana.
“Monday.”
She understood immediately.
The audit.
The house.
May you like
Whatever Mason feared, it had a deadline.
And I had four days to discover what he thought was coming.
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