Martha, we bought a professional agency deck for the anniversary pitch, so please put your hand-bound portfolio away, my best friend and business partner of twenty years, Evelyn Brooks, said quie...
The fluorescent hum of my desk lamp was the only sound in the office as I leaned closer to the courier receipt. My name, “Martha Albright,” stretched across the signature line in blue ink.
It looked so much like my own.
My hand trembled slightly, a cold prickle spreading up my arm. I’ve signed thousands of documents over twenty years, always with the same distinct break in the crossbar of the ‘A.’ A tiny, almost imperceptible detail that was my personal watermark.
This signature was flawless, unbroken. A perfect forgery.
My eyes darted to the transfer amount: $45,000. It was sent to “Apex Creative Services.” I had never heard of it.
I pushed my chair back and reached for my keyboard. The firm’s internal financial ledger was always open on my desktop. I typed in my password, a routine I could do in my sleep.
The screen flashed red. “Access Error 403: Restricted User Permissions.”
I tried again. Same red error message. My stomach tightened into a knot.
I picked up my office phone to call IT, then hesitated. This felt deliberate.
Instead, I walked out of my quiet office and down the hushed hallway towards the accounting suite. The air was cool, the building emptying out for the evening.
Only Chloe Bennett, our junior financial analyst, remained at her desk, hunched over a spreadsheet. She didn’t look up when I approached.
“Chloe, do you have a minute?” I asked, keeping my voice even.
She flinched, her shoulders tightening. Her mouse hand froze. “Oh. Martha. Didn’t see you there.”
She pushed her glasses up her nose and offered a strained smile. Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall.
“I’m having trouble accessing the main ledger,” I explained, holding up the courier receipt. “And I need to check something specific about this transfer.”
Chloe’s gaze flickered to the receipt in my hand. Her smile vanished.
“Oh, yeah,” she mumbled, staring at her screen. “Evelyn put out a memo earlier. System-wide access restriction.”
“A restriction?” My brow furrowed. “For who?”
“For all executives undergoing ‘transition review’,” Chloe said, still not meeting my eyes. Her voice was flat, practiced.
She busied herself clicking through open files on her monitor, her movements stiff. “It’s just protocol, Martha. Standard security upgrades during restructuring.”
My breath caught in my throat. I was an executive. And Evelyn had certainly put me into “transition review.”
“So, I can’t access any financial records?” I asked, the words tasting like ash.
Chloe finally looked at me, her face a mask of practiced neutrality. “Not directly, no. All requests go through Evelyn’s office for approval now.”
A sharp, cold clarity pierced through the initial shock. Evelyn wasn’t just pushing me out; she was locking me out. Blocking my ability to see what she was doing.
The forged signature, the hidden transfer, the sudden system lockdown. This was not a friendly restructuring. This was a hostile takeover, and I needed to gather physical proof before I made another move.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours