Page 4 of Married to Lies

She looked back down at her phone, and I could see she was scrolling social media. I kept my thoughts to myself, instead walking back past doors labeled accounting, marketing, and procurement, until I reached the end of the hall.

The label stared back at me: Conrad Hale, CEO.

With a heavy feeling in my gut, I straightened my shoulders, smoothed my straight black hair, and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he called.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was hanging out in the hallway and then pushed inside. As usual, everything was perfectly clean and in its place. No loose papers hung out on his desk or any personal effects for that matter. If I wiped a white glove over any surface here, it would surely come away pristine.

On the wall, he had diplomas from Upton University, showcasing undergraduate and master’s degrees in business administration.

Conrad sat behind his desk like he was made to be here. His appearance was just as perfect as the office—light-brown hair expertly gelled back, slacks and a button-down shirt without a wrinkle to be seen. I couldn’t see his shoes, but I knew they would be free of scuffs or scratches.

I sat down in a hard wooden chair across from him, putting my feet on his desk.

His eye twitched only a little. Sometimes it was fun to get him riled.

“You need to fire your assistant,” I told him, gazing at my short-cut fingernails. “Didn’t even offer to walk me back here. What if I was nosy and walked into accounting?” I looked up to see his response.

His lips were pursed. “I’ll discuss it with her.”

“Promptly,” I told him. “I don’t want my employees’ sensitive information at risk.”

“Yes, I will,” he said with a nod.

“Good,” I said. “Pass me the reports.”

He reached into his drawer and passed me a folder I knew would hold the company’s P&L, along with employee satisfaction scores and new customer acquisition logs.

While I reviewed the information, he worked quietly on his computer. Every so often, I had a question and he would answer it. I gave some suggestions for him to pass to marketing and told him that we needed to switch back to the gloves we used to use. The new brand was unpopular with the employees.

Finally, I asked him, “Any questions for me?”

He looked up at me, light-brown eyes holding... something. Hesitancy? Resolve? Some impossible mix of the two? He finally said, “I’m going to need a favor.”

My eyebrows arched. “A favor?”

“I have reason to suspect that Quentin Thomas is committing fraud.”

My stomach sank. Quentin was the one who signed the checks on our biggest contract. “MyHome’s CFO? Why would you think that?”

“He sent me the wrong check last month—it was for a company named Prodian Group.”

“And?” I asked, brows pinched. “An accounting error means he’s a fraud?” I shook my head at him.

His frown deepened for a moment before he cleared his expression. “Well, I was curious⁠—”

“—Bored,” I translated.

“And I did a quick Google search to see what kind of business MyHome was doing with Prodian Group.”

“And?” I prompted again. Conrad loved a story—sometimes I wished he would just spit it out already.

He leaned in theatrically, even though it was just the two of us. “Prodian Group doesn’t exist,” he whispered. “No website, no phone number, not even an Instagram profile.”

I waved my hand at the idea like it was smoke I could waft away. “It’s a shell company. An accounting thing to skimp on taxes and avoid liability.” I gestured at his fancy, fake degrees. “You should know how they work.”

Color rose on his pale cheeks. “I know how it works. But when I told Quentin of the mistake, he was upset. The guy never breaks a sweat, but this had him all sorts of flustered. Suspicious. You might know business, but I know people. That’s why you hired me.”