Chapter 4 - The Woman Before Emily
Laura Benton lived in a modest townhouse outside Albany.
Catherine did not go there.
Naomi insisted that any contact be handled carefully because Laura might be a witness, a victim, or both.
Instead, Naomi called.
Laura hung up the first time.
She hung up the second time.
On the third call, Naomi said only one sentence.
“Richard Welles attacked another employee yesterday.”
Laura remained silent for fourteen seconds.
Then she said, “Who?”
“Emily Carter.”
Another silence.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone believe her?”
“Catherine witnessed the aftermath. There is video.”
Laura began crying.
The sound was quiet.
Almost angry.
“I had nothing.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you aren’t. You don’t know me.”
“You’re right.”
After a long pause, Laura agreed to speak with Detective Ortiz.
Not Catherine.
Not Bellmont.
Not anyone connected to Richard financially.
Only the police.
That afternoon, Emily met Ortiz at the district attorney’s office.
Her cousin Danielle sat beside her until the interview began.
Emily had brought the torn uniform.
A prosecutor photographed the damaged shoulder and documented the garment before sealing it.
Emily watched the bag disappear into evidence storage.
It felt strange.
A dress she had hated wearing was now one of the most important objects in her life.
Ortiz sat across from her.
“There’s something else we need to discuss.”
Emily braced herself.
“Mr. Welles’s attorney gave investigators information about you.”
Emily laughed bitterly.
“Of course he did.”
“He claims expensive jewelry has gone missing from the mansion over several months.”
Emily stared at her.
“You saw the bracelet in Richard’s hand.”
“Yes.”
“And the recording says he planned to frame me.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you telling me this?”
“Because his lawyers may use it publicly. I don’t want you blindsided.”
Emily looked down.
Richard knew something most rich men understood instinctively.
An accusation did not need to be believable forever.
It only needed to be believable long enough to stain someone.
“Is there more?”
Ortiz hesitated.
“He says you asked him for fifty thousand dollars two weeks ago.”
Emily looked up sharply.
“What?”
“He produced an email.”
“I never emailed him.”
Ortiz slid a printed page across the table.
The sender address looked almost identical to Emily’s personal email.
One letter differed.
The message threatened to reveal “private information” unless Richard paid.
Emily felt nauseated.
“That isn’t mine.”
“We know.”
She blinked.
“You know?”
“The originating IP address is associated with a business center used by Bellmont Holdings.”
Emily leaned back.
Richard had prepared this before the attack.
Maybe weeks before.
“What was he going to do?”
Ortiz answered carefully.
“We’re trying to determine that.”
Emily thought of every uncomfortable moment she had dismissed.
Richard standing too close while she polished glasses.
Richard asking whether she had a boyfriend.
Richard insisting she bring documents into his study after everyone else left.
The night he touched the small of her back and smiled when she moved away.
She had told herself she was overreacting.
Then she remembered something.
“My phone.”
Ortiz looked up.
“What about it?”
“Three weeks ago, I recorded him.”
The detective leaned forward.
Emily pulled her phone from her bag.
“I didn’t record a conversation. Not exactly. I turned on a voice memo before going into his office because he’d been making comments.”
“Do you still have it?”
“I thought I deleted it.”
“Thought?”
Emily opened her cloud storage.
Recently deleted files remained for thirty days.
Her thumb shook as she found the recording.
It was eleven minutes long.
Most of it contained footsteps and paper sounds.
Then Richard’s voice.
“You’d be prettier if you stopped looking scared around me.”
Emily’s recorded voice answered.
“I’m not scared.”
“You should learn how this house works.”
“I know how my job works.”
“You know how Catherine thinks it works.”
Silence.
Then Richard again.
“Loyalty matters more than job descriptions.”
The recording continued.
He never explicitly threatened her.
But the tone made Emily’s skin crawl.
Detective Ortiz asked permission to copy it.
Emily agreed.
As she left the office two hours later, Catherine was waiting across the street.
Emily stopped.
Catherine did not approach.
She seemed to understand that Emily no longer wanted people deciding how close they could stand.
“I heard Laura agreed to talk,” Catherine said.
Emily nodded.
“Did you know her?”
“She worked for us seven years ago.”
“What happened?”
“Richard told me she stole.”
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
Emily looked at her for a long moment.
“Did you fire her?”
“No. She resigned before I could speak to her.”
“Did you call?”
Catherine’s silence answered.
Emily shook her head.
“You always had the luxury of not asking.”
The words landed harder than shouting.
Catherine looked toward the courthouse.
“My father taught me that businesses survive because leaders don’t react to every rumor.”
“Convenient lesson.”
“Yes.”
Emily was surprised.
Catherine continued.
“I used that lesson whenever knowing the truth would have been inconvenient.”
The wind lifted her chestnut hair.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“I’m asking you to know that I’m going to help expose him.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed.
“For me?”
“For Laura. For you. For whoever else there is.”
“And for your company.”
Catherine flinched again.
“Yes,” she said. “For that too.”
At least she had stopped pretending.
Emily started walking away.
Then Catherine called her name.
“Emily.”
She turned.
“I found something this morning.”
Catherine held up a photograph of a handwritten ledger page.
Seven initials.
Seven dates.
Seven payments.
At the top, one word:
RESOLUTIONS
Laura Benton’s initials appeared beside $480,000.
Another woman had received $220,000.
Another $600,000.
The oldest payment was nine years earlier.
Emily stared at the list.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
At the bottom of the page, beneath the seventh payment, was a blank line.
Beside it, written in Richard’s handwriting, were two letters.
EC.
Emily Carter.
And next to her initials was a number.
May you like
$75,000.
Richard had assigned a price to her silence before she had ever accused him of anything.
