Chapter 6 - THE BOARDING PASSES
I stared at the glowing screen of my phone.
Authorization Code: H-HOWARD.
Hartley.
Even while begging on his knees, playing the pathetic, broken man for Camilla Vance, he had been operating a secondary scam.
“You didn’t just forge a wedding,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous, hollow whisper that made the entire room freeze. I looked away from Wesley and down at his father. “You hacked the Quantum portal.”
Hartley’s head snapped up. His face, already pale, turned a sickly shade of gray. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me,” I commanded, tapping my phone screen. “When HR sent you the onboarding packet this morning, they included a temporary executive access badge and a login pin. You used the hotel’s Wi-Fi during the reception to log into the Quantum crisis portal. You’re trying to initiate a wire transfer from my executive pension account to your offshore holding company right now.”
Vivian gasped, covering her mouth. Camilla Vance let out a low whistle, clearly impressed by the sheer audacity of the theft.
“He’s stealing your retirement,” Inez whispered, looking at her new father-in-law with absolute disgust.
“He’s trying to,” I corrected.
I didn't panic. Thirty years of handling corporate disasters had trained my heart to beat slower when the fire alarms went off, not faster.
I unlocked my phone and opened the Quantum secure app. My thumb flew across the screen, entering my biometric override codes.
“What are you doing?” Hartley demanded, scrambling to his feet. He lunged toward me, desperate to grab the phone.
“Ah,” Camilla said smoothly, stepping in and pressing the sharp heel of her stiletto down hard onto the edge of Hartley’s polished shoe, stopping him in his tracks. “Let the woman work, Hartley.”
I ignored him, my eyes locked on the digital progress bar on my screen.
Transfer Pending: $850,000.00.
Status: Processing.
“Cancel,” I muttered, hitting the red override button.
The screen spun for a torturous second. Then, a green checkmark appeared.
Transfer Denied. Account Frozen. Security Protocol Initiated.
I let out a slow breath, sliding the phone back into my pocket.
“Your transfer just failed, Hartley,” I said, looking at the broken man in front of me. “And because you used your temporary employee ID to initiate a fraudulent wire, Quantum’s internal security team has automatically flagged it as corporate espionage. They are calling the federal authorities as we speak.”
Hartley staggered backward, hitting the wall of the bridal suite. He looked at Wesley, his eyes wide with terror. “Wesley. We have to go. Now.”
Wesley didn't need to be told twice. The reality of federal prison had finally pierced his arrogant armor. He shoved past Camilla, knocking his mother aside, and bolted down the hallway toward the service elevators. Hartley followed close behind, leaving Vivian weeping on the floor holding the useless boarding passes.
“My security team is waiting in the lobby,” Camilla said calmly, checking her reflection in the mirror. “They won't get far.”
She turned to me, offering a respectful nod. “You handle your business well, Eleanor. I’m sorry your daughter had to endure this.”
Camilla unfastened the pearl necklace from her throat. The heavy, luminescent beads slid into her palm. She held them out to Inez.
“These belong to you, sweetheart,” Camilla said gently. “Don't ever let a man tell you what they’re worth.”
Inez took the pearls with trembling hands, clutching them to her chest. “Thank you.”
Camilla smiled, turned on her heel, and swept out of the room, leaving the scent of expensive perfume and vengeance in her wake.
I turned my attention to Inez. My beautiful girl looked shattered, sitting amidst the ruins of a wedding that was nothing more than a crime scene.
“Inez,” I said softly, sitting beside her on the velvet sofa. I put my arm around her shaking shoulders. “We need to call the police. We need to file a report for the fraud.”
Inez nodded against my shoulder. “I know. I just… I feel so stupid, Mom. How did I not see it?”
“You saw a man who promised to love you,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “There is no shame in believing the best in someone. The shame belongs entirely to the men who used that love against you.”
I pulled my phone out again, dialing the non-emergency police line.
As the phone rang against my ear, another text message popped up on my screen.
It was from Inez’s phone number.
I frowned, looking down at Inez’s hands. Her phone was sitting on the coffee table across the room. She wasn't touching it.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and opened the text message.
Help.
My blood ran cold.
If Inez was sitting right next to me without her phone, then who was texting me from her number?
“Inez,” I asked, my voice tight. “Where is your phone?”
Inez looked up, wiping her eyes. She pointed to the coffee table. “It’s right there.”
I stood up and walked over to the table. I picked up the phone resting on the glass surface.
I turned it over.
It wasn't Inez’s phone. It had the same white case, but the lock screen photo was different. It was a picture of Wesley’s sports car.
Wesley had swapped their phones during the chaos.
“He took your phone,” I said, a sickening realization washing over me.
“Why would he take my phone?” Inez asked, standing up.
“Because your phone has the digital banking app linked to your joint accounts,” I realized, the puzzle pieces snapping into place. “He couldn't get my pension, so he’s going to drain the last remaining funds from your personal savings before he runs.”
But that didn't explain the text message. Help.
Wesley wouldn't text me for help.
Unless it wasn't Wesley.
I looked down at Wesley’s phone in my hand. It vibrated. A new notification popped up on the screen.
It was a calendar alert.
Meet the Courier. Room 412. 7:30 PM.
I checked my watch. It was 7:25.
Wesley wasn't running to the lobby to escape Camilla's men. He was running upstairs.
“Stay here,” I ordered Inez, dropping Wesley’s phone on the table. “Lock the door. Do not let anyone in except the police.”
I didn't wait for her to answer. I hiked up the skirt of my navy satin dress, pushed past the weeping Vivian Howard in the hallway, and sprinted toward the guest elevators.
May you like
I hit the button for the fourth floor.
Wesley wasn't just running with stolen money. He was meeting someone. A courier. And whoever had my daughter’s phone was in trouble.
