His Secret Addiction

Chapter Twenty-One

Damien's POV

The deposition request arrived Wednesday morning.

Federal investigators wanted to interview me about Maya's network, my knowledge of company finances, and any suspicious activity I might have witnessed over the past five years. Standard procedure, Sophie said. Nothing to worry about unless I had something to hide.

I didn't. But the request came with a subpoena for financial records dating back eight years, which meant they were looking for something specific.

Marcus came to my office after lunch.

"They're digging into the Chicago deal," he said, closing the door behind him. "The acquisition we made four years ago. Maya processed the paperwork."

"That deal was clean."

"The deal was clean. The financing wasn't." Marcus pulled up documents on his laptop. "I went back through everything last night. Three of the investors who backed us were shell corporations. They've since been dissolved. No paper trail, no beneficial owners listed anywhere."

I sat down. "How much money are we talking about?"

"Twelve million. Twenty percent of the total acquisition cost." He turned the laptop toward me. "If those were Maya's shell corporations, if that was laundered money, then we unknowingly used criminal funds to acquire a legitimate business."

"We didn't know."

"That's not how it works legally. Ignorance isn't a defense in financial crimes." Marcus closed the laptop. "The investigators are going to ask if you knew where the money came from. If you did any due diligence on the investors. If Maya influenced the decision to accept their backing."

"She recommended them. Said they were vetted through normal channels."

"Did you verify that?"

I hadn't. I'd trusted her. We all had.

"How bad is this?" I asked.

"Worst case? The acquisition gets unwound, we have to pay back investors with clean money, and the company takes a thirty million dollar hit." Marcus sat down. "Best case? We cooperate fully, prove we had no knowledge, and the investigators move on."

"What's the realistic case?"

"Somewhere in between. With a lot of lawyers and a lot of time."

Alex's deposition was scheduled for Friday. Mine was Monday.

We spent Thursday night preparing. Sophie had sent over probable questions. Alex sat at the dining table with note cards, practicing answers.

"Did you have knowledge of Maya Patel's criminal activities?" he said, reading from a card.

"No."

"When did you first become aware of suspicious financial activity?"

"When my father gave me the flash drive containing evidence of her network."

"Did Ms. Patel ever ask you to participate in or facilitate any financial transactions?"

He stopped. "Actually, she did. Two years ago. Small thing. She asked me to sign off on a vendor contract because she said the approval system was down."

"Did you?"

"Yes. I didn't think anything of it." He set the cards down. "What if there are more things like that? Little moments I didn't think twice about but that look bad in hindsight?"

"Then you tell them exactly that. You didn't think twice because you had no reason to suspect her." I pulled up a chair. "They're not trying to catch you in a lie. They're trying to build a complete picture of how she operated."

"What if the picture shows I was negligent?"

"Then we deal with that. But honesty is better than trying to reconstruct your memory into something cleaner."

He went back to the cards. We ran through questions until eleven. By the end he was exhausted and I was frustrated with how many gaps existed in all of our knowledge.

---

Friday morning Alex left for his deposition at eight. I went to the office and tried to work. Failed. Spent two hours staring at emails before Marcus dragged me into a meeting about quarterly projections that I barely followed.

Alex called at noon.

"It's done," he said. "Three hours. They asked about Maya, about my father, about vendor contracts and expense reports and a dozen things I barely remembered."

"How did it go?"

"I have no idea. Their faces gave nothing away." He sounded tired. "They asked about us. Our relationship. Whether Maya knew about it before anyone else did."

"What did you say?"

"The truth. That she knew because I told her. That I trusted her." He paused. "They asked if she ever used that information to manipulate me. I said no. But now I'm not sure."

"Alex—"

"I have to go. They want me to sign something. I'll see you tonight."

He hung up before I could respond.

*************

Victoria stopped by my office that afternoon.

"The board wants an emergency meeting," she said. "Sterling is pushing for it. He's claiming the investigation creates instability and we need to address leadership contingencies."

"He's trying to force me out again."

"He's trying to position himself for when the investigation gets worse." She sat down. "Damien, if those Chicago investors were laundering money through us, the board has a legal obligation to act. They can't just ignore it because you didn't know."

"So what do they want? My resignation?"

"They want options. A plan. Something that shows we're taking it seriously." She looked at me directly. "You need to get ahead of this. Announce an internal audit. Bring in external investigators. Show the board you're handling it before they decide you're not."

"That makes us look guilty."

"It makes you look responsible. There's a difference."

She left and I called Sophie. We spent two hours drafting a statement announcing a voluntary internal investigation into all company finances going back ten years. Complete transparency. Full cooperation with federal investigators. Zero tolerance for any findings of misconduct.

It went public at four.

By five the press had picked it up. By six it was the lead story on three business networks. By seven Richard Sterling had called an emergency board meeting for Monday morning, an hour before my deposition.

---

Alex came home at eight carrying Chinese food he'd picked up on the way.

"I saw the statement," he said, setting containers on the counter.

"It was necessary."

"I know." He started unpacking food. "Sterling's going to use it against you."

"Let him try. I'm done reacting to what Sterling wants." I took the container he handed me. "How are you?"

"Tired. Angry. Confused about what I actually remember versus what I think I remember now that I know Maya was manipulating everything." He sat down. "My deposition transcript is sixty pages long. Sixty pages of me saying 'I don't know' or 'I don't recall' or 'I trusted her.'"

"That's not your fault."

"Isn't it? I worked with her for twelve years. I told her everything. And I never once suspected she was capable of murder."

"Neither did I. Neither did anyone."

He ate in silence for a moment. "Your deposition is Monday."

"I know."

"After the board meeting."

"I know that too."

"This is going to get worse before it gets better."

I set my food down. "Probably."

He looked at me across the counter. "Are we going to be okay?"

"Yes."

"You don't know that."

"I do." I meant it. Whatever came next—investigations, depositions, board meetings, press coverage—we'd handle it. Together. Not because it would be easy. Because it was necessary.

He held my gaze for a long moment. Then nodded.