Sophia
I’m in the middle of an important meeting when Santiago calls me. I try to ignore him, but he texts me 9-1-1.
Dialing his number, I’m expecting him to tell me that my niece is in trouble, or someone at home lost an arm. Instead, he says, “Did you know the HR director is auditing everyone’s files?”
“Yes. It’s part of the plan to create an equal environment and to prepare the incentives to move to Oregon,” I respond, not saying, since when do you talk in third person?
Normally, when we speak, he’s more professional, but in this moment, he sounds more like an arrogant big brother than my colleague.
Also, how can he call this an emergency?
“I’ve found a lot of discrepancies,” he announces, my heart stops because what if we get into yet another public relations nightmare? “I’m emailing you everything that I gathered because, even though it’s not illegal, it’s…weird.”
“Weird how?” I ask puzzled.
“Just go through everything and if you have any questions, well, ask your boss because no one in the company has any answers.”
I hang up and stare at Martina, Pierce, and Fitzhenry who are watching expectantly and sigh. “Are we almost done?”
“Why?” Pierce asks.
“My brother found some discrepancies and wants me to take a look, but it sounds like what I’m about to see is not pretty and it’s lengthy. It might be something I’ll have to fix with Henry,” I inform him. “I’d rather wait if we have more to discuss.”
Pierce grins and says, “We’re wrapping this up so take your time.” He leans back on his chair, crosses his arms, and watches me.
“What are you waiting for?”
“It feels like you’re going to get pissed at the only man who knows how to push your buttons so…I want to watch from the beginning.”
I laugh. “Nah, I’m not contributing to your bashing. Find your own material to fuck with your brothers.”
Knowing Henry, whatever he did doesn’t need solving immediately. He’s pretty thorough. I disregard my brother’s email until we wrap up this stage of my special project. Martina and I have been working on it for the past few of weeks. Now that Fitz and Pierce are involved, it’s almost ready to be launched. Hopefully, it’ll happen in just a few more days.
“Are you sure this is going to work out?” Martina asks me.
“Trust me,” I tell her. “We’ve done our research. Every asset is in place. The rest is all up to you.”
“It’s scary,” she whispers.
“The beginning of any venture is exhilarating and yet, frightening. However, I believe you’re up for the part,” I reassure her.
The problem with Martina Edelstein is that she was told she was pretty and that’s all that matters in life. Her beauty was enough to have what her heart desired, a man to provide for her. She just needed a gentle push, someone to believe in her, and a little taste of a different world. I showed her how her life can look like if she doesn't follow the script written for her. I don’t think she’s chosen her destiny, but she’ll be able to do it soon.
Pierce shakes her hand and says, “If you need anything else, you know where to find me. At the Aldridge Mansion, either in the barn or upstairs, second room to the left.”
Once they leave my house, I dare to open the email which is actually a link to the cloud storage where there are tons of documents. I sigh because there’s a lot to do for the factory, but this seems like something I have to tend to now before it becomes a real problem.
Five hours.
It takes me five hours to go through every document, spreadsheet, and bank statement before I understand why Santiago called me saying, it’s weird, not illegal, but if you have questions, call your boss.
Honestly, at this point, I’m not sure what to feel, but I’m upset enough to fire up the engine on one of Henry’s babies and head to the mansion. When I arrive, I park the car right by the entry but don’t bother to turn it off because maybe I can convince Vance to tie him up and put him right in front so I can accidentally run over him.
“Where is he?” I ask swinging the door open and carrying the binders I prepared while going through the bullshit he’s done for the past three years.
“Uh-oh,” Beacon mumbles, looking at me and the papers and then grinning. He throws a fist bump up in the air. “One month without chores.”
“Where is he?” I ask him again, instead of analyzing his nonsense.
“The gym,” he responds. “Helping Hayes with Mills’ exercises.”
Since running over Henry is out of the question, I throw him the car keys and say, “Have fun with it. If you scratch it, I’ll pay you.”
I make my way to the gym. Mills is on top of one of the orthopedic tables. His leg is covered with a tinfoil lookalike wrap and Henry is on the floor operating what looks like a keyboard without a screen.
“Soph,” he says, smiling at me when he sees me. “Everything okay?”
“Human resources is auditing everyone’s salaries and benefits,” I tell him. “Everyone’s!”
“It’s been a couple of weeks since you decided to stop working for the company,” he remarks.
“A heads up would’ve been nice. But surely, you’re aware that I run the place, so of course, I’m aware of the fact,” he responds with an attitude.
“Well, it’s obvious that I’m part of the company or human resources wouldn’t have gone through my file, would they?”
“They shouldn’t have,” he says, with a neutral tone. “Why would they when you’re already relocated. Everyone in HR knows that only I handle your file.”
“Everyone, but my brother,” I remind him, and he mouths, fuck!
I drop the binders next to him. “Those are copies of my salary history, my benefits, and of course, what HR doesn’t know.”
He grabs one of the thick binders and opens it.
“Funny, accounting doesn’t have any trace of my spending account, credit cards, or other expenses that you assured were included within the assistant’s benefits,” I start.
Then, I realize that Mills is sitting down watching next to Hayes. On the other side of the room, his other brothers stand with almost the same attention, as if this is a discussion they’ve been expecting.
“Did you forget to list my apartment as part of my benefits?” I continue ignoring the spectators. “You know where I found my spending account registered?”
He runs a hand through his hair, those green eyes looking at me. He’s partly annoyed and partly terrified. Good, I’m just getting started. “It’s one of your checking accounts, which is funny, because it happens to be our joint checking account. I have a joint checking account with you.”
I pull out the latest credit card he gave me before I moved to Oregon and drop it next to him. “Unlimited credit? Who gives his assistant unlimited credit?”
“What is the problem again?”
“You’ve been paying me from your personal accounts all this time,” I repeat.
“Just because you have access to my accounts, that doesn’t mean you can go through them,” he protests appalled.