Chapter 4 - Ryan's Version of the TruthBy noon the next day, Ryan had told four different versions of the same story.
To Claire, the loan had been a misunderstanding.
To Elaine, it had been a legitimate investment Claire had suddenly pretended not to understand.
To Naomi, it had been Claire's idea.
And to Atlantic Crown Cruises, Carter Shore Ventures had nothing to do with Blue Harbor Excursions.
Unfortunately for Ryan, none of the versions matched.
Graham Mercer called him into Atlantic Crown's regional office in Baltimore at nine-thirty Tuesday morning.
Ryan arrived in the same navy travel jacket he had worn at the terminal.
He had slept three hours.
His eyes were bloodshot.
Across the table sat Graham, a compliance officer named Rebecca Shaw, and an outside employment attorney.
Ryan gave them his best smile.
“This whole situation is embarrassing, but my marriage should not be relevant to my employment.”
Rebecca opened a folder.
“Your marriage isn't the issue.”
“Good.”
“Your financial relationship with Blue Harbor may be.”
“I don't have one.”
“Carter Shore Ventures does.”
Ryan's smile weakened.
Rebecca slid three payment records across the table.
Blue Harbor had transferred consulting fees totaling $41,000 to Carter Shore Ventures over the previous four months.
Ryan stared at them.
“That doesn't mean anything.”
“You own Carter Shore.”
“It's a family company.”
“Your wife says she'd never heard of it.”
Ryan leaned back.
“Claire is upset.”
Graham's voice was flat.
“She also says she never authorized the commercial guarantee carrying her name.”
“Again, she's upset.”
Rebecca studied him.
“Does she become forgetful when upset?”
Ryan frowned.
“What?”
“Because you appear to be relying heavily on the possibility that she won't remember financial events.”
Ryan's jaw tightened.
“I don't appreciate the implication.”
Graham said, “Neither do we.”
Ryan's phone vibrated.
Naomi.
He ignored it.
She called again.
And again.
Finally he excused himself.
In the corridor he answered.
“What?”
Naomi shouted before he finished the word.
“You used Claire's name?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Don't tell me to keep my voice down.”
Ryan walked farther from the conference room.
“What happened?”
“My company put me on leave.”
His stomach dropped.
“For what?”
“They're auditing every account I touched.”
“That's temporary.”
“They asked me about Carter Shore.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
“What did you say?”
“The truth.”
“What truth?”
“That you told me it was your family's investment company.”
Ryan whispered, “Naomi.”
“And that you said Claire handled compliance paperwork.”
“You need to stop talking.”
Naomi went silent.
Ryan immediately realized his mistake.
She said, “Why?”
“Because corporate investigators twist things.”
“Or because you're lying?”
“I'm trying to protect you.”
“You told me your marriage was over.”
“It is.”
“You told me Claire didn't want you home.”
“She didn't.”
“I watched her arrive with two babies and flowers.”
Ryan rubbed his forehead.
The flowers.
Claire had dropped them beside the stroller before saying his name.
He had forgotten them entirely.
“Naomi, what happened yesterday was complicated.”
“You said I wasn't the only one.”
Ryan sighed.
“Don't turn jealous.”
She laughed.
“Jealous?”
“You knew this wasn't a relationship.”
Naomi's voice dropped.
“That is not what you told me.”
Ryan looked through the glass wall toward Graham's office.
“I need you to listen carefully.”
“No.”
“Naomi.”
“No. You listen. I knew you were married. I'm not pretending I didn't. You told me you were separated emotionally, that she knew you saw other people, and that you stayed legally married because of the babies and finances.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
“You believed what you wanted to believe.”
The silence on the line became dangerous.
Then Naomi said, “So did you.”
She hung up.
Back in Philadelphia, Claire sat across from a fraud representative from Coastal Meridian Lending on a secure video call.
Maya sat beside her.
The representative, Paul Ramsey, looked uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Carter, based on what you're telling us, we're opening an identity-theft investigation.”
“I need copies of everything submitted in my name.”
“We can provide records through the proper request.”
“Was there a physical signature?”
“Electronic.”
“What verified it?”
“Date of birth, Social Security number, credit information, and a code sent to the phone number on the application.”
Claire frowned.
“What phone number?”
Paul read the last four digits.
Claire's heart dropped.
Ryan's phone.
Maya wrote something down.
“Was an email used?” Maya asked.
“Yes.”
“What address?”
Paul read it.
Claire stared.
“I don't have that email address.”
Maya's expression hardened.
Paul continued carefully.
“The account application represented that Mrs. Carter was a co-owner of Carter Shore Ventures.”
“I am not.”
“It also listed estimated household assets of two-point-one million dollars.”
Claire laughed in disbelief.
“I don't have two million dollars.”
Maya looked at her.
“Your mother's estate?”
Claire went still.
Vivian's rowhouse was worth almost $900,000 after neighborhood appreciation.
Claire also had an inherited brokerage account held separately.
Combined with retirement accounts and other assets, her net worth might approach that number.
Ryan knew it.
He had helped organize documents after Vivian's death.
Paul said, “The application included an asset schedule.”
“Can I see it?”
“When the records are released.”
Claire leaned toward the screen.
“Did the application claim my inherited property belonged to the business?”
Paul paused.
“No lien was recorded against the property.”
Claire breathed again.
“But the property was listed as part of the guarantor's financial strength.”
Her relief vanished.
Ryan had not mortgaged her mother's house.
But he had used it.
He had taken Vivian Brooks's lifetime of work and placed its value on a loan application Claire never approved.
After the call, Claire sat motionless.
Maya touched her arm.
“We'll dispute the guarantee.”
Claire whispered, “He knew exactly what he was doing.”
“Yes.”
“What happens now?”
“We preserve evidence.”
Claire looked at the babies sleeping nearby.
“And my marriage?”
Maya was silent.
Claire already knew the answer.
An hour later, Ryan sent another message.
We need to stop outsiders from tearing apart our family.
Claire stared at the word outsiders.
A lawyer was an outsider.
His employer was an outsider.
His mother was an outsider.
Apparently everyone was an outsider except the man who had forged a digital version of Claire herself.
Then another message appeared.
I can explain where the money went.
Claire waited.
A photograph arrived.
It showed a waterfront condominium under construction in Miami.
Blue water.
Floor-to-ceiling glass.
A rooftop pool.
Ryan wrote:
This was supposed to be ours.
Claire enlarged the image.
At the bottom of the sales brochure was a unit number.
17B.
Maya searched public property records.
Five minutes later, she looked up.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“The buyer isn't Carter Shore Ventures.”
Claire's throat tightened.
“Who is it?”
Maya turned the laptop.
The purchaser listed on the preliminary contract was a company named Seabright Residential Holdings.
Registered manager:
Naomi Reed.
Claire stared at the screen.
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Ryan had not been building a future for his wife.
He had been using his wife's money to build one with somebody else.
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