Chương 5
“That part I expected.”
She looked at Lena.
“You called him?”
Lena avoided her eyes.
“You needed someone who understands financial investigations.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“I am not here because I think you did something wrong.”
“That is a very strange way to start a sentence if you want me to trust you.”
“I know.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Outside the office, phones rang.
People walked through the hallway.
Someone laughed at something that had nothing to do with them.
Mara sat down slowly.
“Tell me what happens next.”
Daniel reached into his briefcase and placed a folder on the desk.
“First, your bank accounts will probably be reviewed.”
“I know.”
“Your board will meet.”
“I know.”
“Some donors will panic.”
“I know.”
He looked at her.
“You know the process.”
“I run a nonprofit, Daniel.”
“I know.”
The quiet after that was heavier than anger.
Because he did know.
He knew she had spent years building the organization from a borrowed office with broken furniture.
He knew she answered emergency calls from tenants at midnight.
He knew she kept handwritten notes from people she helped because she believed numbers could never tell the whole story.
He also knew something else.
Mara was terrible at accepting help.
“You are going to hate this,” Daniel said.
“I already do.”
“You need to let people defend you.”
She looked away.
The sentence landed because it was true.
Not completely.
But enough.
Her phone vibrated on the desk.
The screen showed twenty-three missed calls.
The first names were employees.
The next were board members.
The last one was from her younger brother, Evan.
Mara stared at it.
She and Evan had not spoken in nine months.
Not because of a fight.
Because after their mother died, both of them had decided the other person was handling grief incorrectly.
Evan thought Mara buried herself in work.
Mara thought Evan ran away from responsibility.
Both had been right.
Neither had apologized.
The phone stopped vibrating.
Then started again.
“Answer it,” Lena said.
Mara looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because if someone is calling twenty-four times, they either need something or they know something.”
Mara picked up.
“Hello?”
There was silence.
Then Evan spoke.
“You need to listen to me before you say anything.”
Mara stood.
“Evan.”
“I saw the post.”
Her chest tightened.
“I didn't do it.”
“I know.”
The certainty in his voice surprised her.
“How?”
Another pause.
A long one.
“Because the email they leaked has a mistake.”
Mara frowned.
“What mistake?”
“The one nobody else would notice.”
Daniel stood up slowly.
“What does he mean?”
Mara covered the phone.
“I don't know.”
Evan continued.
“The signature.”
She said nothing.
“Mom's name is spelled wrong.”
The room became very still.
Their mother had spent thirty years correcting people who wrote her name incorrectly.
It was a small thing.
An annoying thing.
A family joke.
But there was one person who always spelled it wrong.
Someone who had only met her once.
Someone who had access to old files from the nonprofit.
Mara looked at Daniel.
His expression had changed.
Not relief.
Concern.
“Who had access?” he asked.
She did not answer.
Because suddenly the question was not who wanted to destroy her.
The question was who knew enough about her life to imitate it.
Mara held the phone tighter against her ear.
“Evan, who had access?”
His breathing changed.
Not much.
Just enough for her to notice.
“That’s the part you’re not going to like.”
“I already don’t like the part where my name is on a wall accusing me of stealing.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
For several seconds, the only sound was the faint noise of traffic on his end.
A truck passed near him, followed by the sharp sound of a car horn.
Then Evan said, “Someone used the old archive.”
Mara looked at the filing cabinet near the corner of her office.
The cabinet had been there since before she became director.
It was one of the few things that survived the nonprofit’s first year.
“What archive?”
“The one Mom kept.”
Her hand moved away from the phone.
Daniel noticed.
“What archive?” he asked quietly.
Mara ignored him.
“Evan, Mom’s files were moved years ago.”
“Some were.”
The way he said it made her stomach tighten.
“Some?”
“Mara.”
“No.”
She walked toward the window.
“No, don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Use that voice.”
“What voice?”
“The one you used when we were kids and you broke something but wanted me to feel guilty before I found out.”
There was silence.
Then Evan gave a short laugh.
It was not a happy one.
“You still do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make jokes when you’re scared.”
Mara opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because he was right.
She hated when he was right.
“I found a copy of the email,” Evan said.
“How?”
“Someone sent it to me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
She pressed her fingers against her forehead.
The room felt smaller.
“Send it to Daniel.”
“I don’t know Daniel.”
“You know exactly who Daniel is.”
“Mara.”
The way he said her name changed.
The anger underneath it disappeared.
“I’m not trying to start another fight.”
She looked down at the floor.
That sentence hurt more than an accusation would have.
Because it reminded her how long they had been fighting without actually talking.
“I know,” she said.
A pause followed.
A real one.
Not the kind people use when they are waiting for their turn to argue.
“I’ll send it,” Evan said.
“Thank you.”
Another silence.
Then he added, “You should know something else.”
“What?”
“I almost didn’t call.”
Mara closed her eyes.
“Why?”
“Because I thought you’d say I was looking for attention.”
The words stayed between them.
She sat down in the chair beside the window.
“I wouldn’t have said that.”
“You might have.”
May you like
She hated that he sounded calm.
She hated that she could not immediately deny it.
