“Where did you get those records?”” he asked.

“That’s not an answer.””

He looked at Margaret.

“Is this some kind of investigation?””

Margaret replied evenly.

“It’s a review of potentially irregular transactions. We need your cooperation to establish what occurred.””

Daniel’s jaw tightened.

“Of course. I’ll cooperate.””

I studied him, searching for the man who had stood beside me at my father’s funeral and promised we’d build something meaningful together.

“Daniel,” I said quietly, “did you authorize those transfers?””

He looked directly at me.

“No.””

The answer came too quickly.

Before I could respond, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen.

Stephen Cole.

Daniel declined the call.

Then it rang again.

And again.

Finally, Daniel silenced it and shoved the phone into his pocket.

“I’m going to need to speak with my lawyer before I answer any more questions.””

Margaret nodded.

“That is your right. We’ll coordinate through counsel.””

Daniel picked up the roses.

“Olivia, we should go home and talk privately.””

“Not tonight.””

His face hardened.

“You’re choosing to believe a waitress over your own husband?””

I held his gaze.

“I’m choosing to investigate documents instead of blindly trusting anyone.””

For the first time, he looked genuinely angry.

He placed the flowers on the desk and walked toward the door.

Then he stopped.

“One piece of advice,” he said without turning around.

“Be careful who you trust. Richard Collins isn’t the only person who stands to lose something if you keep digging.””

He left.

I remained motionless until his footsteps disappeared.

Margaret slowly closed the office door.

“Olivia, did you notice what he didn’t do?””

“What?””

“He didn’t ask whether the money was missing. He asked how you found out.””

I stared at the abandoned roses.

She was right.

And as Peter began documenting the records, I remembered the anonymous email that had started all of this.

Your staff are being abused, and your managers are helping the people responsible.

Whoever had sent it knew something.

Perhaps they’d known about the money, too.

I returned to my desk and opened my laptop. The original email was still in my inbox, untouched since the day it arrived.

I clicked on the sender’s details.

No name.

No profile picture.

Just an address I hadn’t recognized before.

But beneath it, a small line caught my attention.

The email had been sent through the internal network of my own foundation.

Someone inside our organization had warned me.

Someone who had been watching Daniel, Richard, and perhaps others for weeks.

I turned toward Margaret.

“I need to know who sent this.””

She leaned over my shoulder.

“Can our IT team trace it?””

“Not without potentially alerting whoever sent it. We’ll preserve the message and have an independent specialist examine the headers.””

I opened the email again.

This time, I noticed an attachment I’d overlooked.

It was a single-page PDF titled Read This Before the Gala.

My hand hovered over the mouse.

Then I clicked.

The page contained three lines.

Daniel didn’t start this.

Richard doesn’t control it.

If you want to know who is stealing from your foundation, look at the person who has been signing your name.

I stopped breathing.

Because I hadn’t signed the questionable receipts.

But the signature on the documents was close enough to mine that, at a glance, anyone might believe I had.

And at the bottom of the anonymous message was one final sentence.

Ask your husband why he has a second key to your private office.