Chapter 2 - THE VENDOR THAT DIDN’T EXIST
North Harbor Consulting had a website.
One page.
No address.
No employees listed.
A stock photo of smiling people around a table.
Bellmere Event Logistics had more.
An address in Evanston.
Phone number.
Testimonials.
No business license.
No warehouse.
No vehicles.
No payroll records.
Our controller, Anna Briggs, looked at me across the conference table.
“These companies are fake.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
Good answer.
“But I’m close.”
She rotated her laptop.
North Harbor had invoiced Morgan Events Group for “strategic vendor placement.”
Bellmere for “overflow staging services.”
Payments over eighteen months.
$1.9 million.
My stomach dropped.
The $38,600 was lunch money.
Anna continued.
“Every invoice was approved by Julian.”
“Second approval?”
“Chloe.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Anna lowered her voice.
“There’s more.”
“Please don’t say that.”
She almost smiled.
“Sorry.”
One North Harbor invoice carried my digital approval.
I stared.
“I never signed this.”
Anna nodded.
“I know.”
“How?”
“Your token authenticated it.”
My skin went cold.
My digital signature key lived inside a secure app.
Julian knew my phone passcode.
Because we were married.
Because I had trusted him.
Anna checked access logs.
The approval occurred at 2:13 a.m.
While I was asleep at home.
Julian’s phone connected to our Wi-Fi at 2:11.
Mine did too.
He had used my phone while I slept.
The room went quiet.
I laughed once.
Ugly sound.
“Romantic.”
Anna did not laugh.
Then legal counsel, Mark Ellis, entered.
He looked worried.
“Julian has requested an emergency board meeting.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“To challenge your voting rights.”
I stared.
“On what basis?”
“He claims your grandmother’s trust violated the company’s transfer restrictions.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Yes.”
“But not harmless.”
Mark placed a petition on the table.
Julian wanted the board to freeze my fifty-two percent until a court reviewed ownership.
If he succeeded, I would lose control long enough for him to alter the company.
Or bury evidence.
I asked.
“Who drafted this?”
Mark hesitated.
“Your father.”
I thought I misheard him.
“What?”
Mark looked at the door.
May you like
“Your father’s law firm filed it this morning.”
