Grant never liked me in his office.
That was the first reason I entered.
The second reason was the locked drawer.
The third was the silver key he had foolishly taped beneath his desk.
Grant was brilliant with money, but terrible with people. He believed nobody noticed anything unless he announced it first.
But I noticed everything.
The drawer opened with a clean click.
Inside sat a second phone, a leather passport case, and a folder marked:
WHITMORE FAMILY TRUST — TEMPORARY CONTROL
My blood went cold.
The folder contained a draft petition claiming I had become “emotionally unstable due to pregnancy-related distress.”
It recommended a review of my voting authority in the trust for the “protection of corporate continuity.”
This was not only betrayal.
This was a planned theft.