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What I uncover is far worse than I expected. Doctored books, inflated numbers, and payments redirected to shell companies. Someone has been embezzling from the estate for years right under the family's nose. And they've done a damn good job covering their tracks.
But I'm better. Methodically tracing paper trails, crunching numbers, and cross-referencing records. Slowly unraveling the web of deception. Most of the missing funds can be traced back to a former estate manager named Thomas Wright.
The pieces begin falling into place. Thomas must be Gemma's stalker, seeking revenge after getting fired. He's been abusing his position for personal gain, gradually bleeding the estate dry over the years. His financial mismanagement is a massive factor in their current troubles.
This goes deeper than just the stalking. Years of neglect and graft have left the Caldwell vineyards struggling. I uncover falsified maintenance logs, and critical upkeep ignored to cut costs. Thomas put profits over the long-term health of the estate. And now they're paying the price.
I have to tell Gemma. She needs to know the truth about Thomas so she can start to rebuild what he's broken. Her family can't move forward until they rip off this band-aid.
I stalk back and forth, my military training kicking in as I hold the phone tightly to my ear. On the other end, my former SEAL brother, Ethan, is giving me intel on Thomas Walsh.
“He was a manager at Caldwell Estates,” he says, “and he has a history of stalking and threatening ex-girlfriends.”
My fists clench as I growl lowly, “When I get my hands on that scumbag?—”
A creak of floorboards echoes throughout the old house, causing me to spin around. Gemma is standing in the doorway, concern etched on her face, as she steps further into the room.
I hold up a finger, silently asking her to wait while I finish my call. “I gotta go,” I say into the phone, “Keep digging and let me know if you find anything else.”
I hang up and stuff my phone into my pocket, letting out a long breath.
“How much did you hear?” I ask, dreading her response.
“I heard enough.” She hesitates in the doorway, frustrated, with her hand on her hip, waiting for more of an answer.”Dylan, we are here; I am here in the middle of nowhere because I gave you permission to take me away from my home.”
I cross the room in quick strides and gently grasp her shoulders. “I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I wanted to protect you from this a little longer.”
Gemma shakes her head, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
Feeling contrite, I drop my eyes to the ground. “Everything I did was because I?—”
“Because I gave you my permission to. And you know why? It’s because I trust you.”
My heart melts. “You trust me.”
“I do. So stop treating me like an idiot and give me your trust as well. We work as a team from now on. You got it?”
“Bossy aren't you, Miss Sunshine?”
“I guess it takes one to know one,” she jokes.
I share what I know so far with her, as we sift through the documents strewn across the floor. “I suspected it was an inside job and got my best guys looking into it. We can access information the police can't. Your father cooperated and my team worked through it until we found the culprit.”
“Thomas?” Her voice cracks on his name. “He was an employee of my father's.”
She pauses, her face clouding over with memories. Her eyes dart to the ground as she continues, “I barely knew him, but I remember he was always bitter about losing his job. He made a lot of empty threats, but I never took them seriously.”
I nod grimly, tightening my hold.
She lets out a shaky breath, leaning into me. “I never thought anyone could do something like this. Let alone someone who worked for the company.”
I smooth back her hair, wishing I could take away this pain. “You are not to blame. His obsession and greed twisted him into someone unrecognizable.”
“That someone my father trusted, that I knew—” She trails off, words failing her.
My hand instinctively reaches for her face as I curse myself for missing such an obvious clue. “Some bodyguard I turned out to be,” I mutter.
Gemma's small hand reaches out and rests gently on my tense forearm. “Hey, don't do that,” her voice is soft and soothing. “Don't blame yourself.”
