Wrangle withdrew.
Her withdrawal triggered a compliance review.
The review found conflicting financial representations, delinquent payments, and questionable transfers.”
The second investigator, a younger man named Peter Shaw, placed a thin document on the table.
“We also found that Ms.
Wrangle’s name appeared in a lender update dated six weeks after she lost access to the reporting systems.
The update stated she had reviewed and approved the company’s revised cash-flow projections.”
I recognized the projection immediately.
It had been built from one of my old templates, down to the pale blue formatting and the note structure I used in footers.
But the numbers had been changed.
The report projected rising revenue.
The internal statements I had saved showed declining sales, overdue payroll taxes, and supplier balances moving past ninety days.
At the bottom of the lender update was my typed name.
Linda Wrangle, Chief Strategy Officer.
I had never held that title.
My father had once told me titles were for people who needed attention.
Apparently, my title became useful when he needed credit.
“Who sent this?” I asked.
Peter looked at his notes.
“It was transmitted from Mr.
Rhett Wrangle’s company account.”
Every head turned toward my brother.
Rhett’s jaw flexed.
“Gordon prepared it.
I forwarded what accounting gave me.”
Gordon Maddox stood near the wall, his face gray beneath the restaurant’s warm lighting.
He had worked for my father for nineteen years.
He had watched me build the company’s reporting system.
He had also watched Warren shut me out and said nothing.
Now he looked like a man realizing silence had become evidence.
“Gordon,” Marisol said, “did you prepare that report?”
He glanced at Warren.
That glance told the room everything before he spoke.
“I prepared portions of it,” he said.
“Did Linda review it?”
“No.”
Rhett slammed his hand against the table.
Water jumped in the glasses.
“You told me it was fine.”
Gordon’s voice shook.
“You told me your father approved using her name because the bank trusted her projections.”
Warren’s face darkened.
“Be very careful, Gordon.”
Marisol leaned forward.
“Mr.
Wrangle, any attempt to influence a witness during this interview will be noted.”
For the first time in my life, someone interrupted my father and made him stop.
The room became completely still.
My mother pushed the brass key toward Danielle.
“There are original invoices in the cabinet,” she said.
“And a black notebook.
Rhett brought it to the house after Linda questioned the consulting payments.”
Rhett stared at her.
“You went through my things?”
“They were in my house.”
