Chapter 4
In the late hours of the night, I stared at the computer screen, cross–referencing data line by line.
In just two months, I had uncovered at least eight instances of financial fraud within the Gilbert Group.
“Amy, it’s late. You should get some rest,” Mrs. Smith said as she walked over and handed me a cup of coffee.
Three years ago, we were colleagues on Wall Street. Now, she had given me a chance to
start over.
“I just have one last report to review,” I replied, accepting the coffee. “The issues here aren’t minor.”
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“Take your time, but don’t wear yourself out,” she said, patting my shoulder. “By the way, the state–owned enterprise project you worked on before–the client insists on you handling it. Want to go meet with them?”
I closed my laptop and smiled. “Of course.”
As I left the building, I saw a post from Barbara: “Thanks to Mr. Gilbert for giving me this opportunity. I’ll make sure to manage the company well.”*
So, my position was left for her after all.
Fine. Let them bask in their victory.
The next day, I walked into a high–end club.
“Ms. Hayward!” Mr. Brown, an old client I had worked with, greeted me warmly. “I’ve
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missed you! Ever since you left the financial world, many of our projects have been hitting a wall.”
“Mr. Brown, you’re too kind,” I said with a smile as I sat down.
“Hey, I heard that the Gilbert Group is planning to acquire Crestfield Bank?” He lowered his voice. “It would be perfect if you were handling this project.”
I stirred my coffee slowly. “Which bank is it with?”
“Westbrook Bank,” Mr. Brown replied. “But there’s a catch. We’re too wary to touch it.”
My eyes widened. Westbrook Bank–that was the bank where I used to work.
Later that night, I dialed a number. “Emma,
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do you remember me?”
“Amy!” Emma’s voice crackled with excitement on the other end. “Have your finally decided to come back?”
“I’ve got an interesting project to discuss. Thought I’d run it by you.”
After hanging up the phone and opened my laptop, typing in a string of numbers.
The detailed financial report of the Gilbert Group popped up on the screen.
The latest debt ratio was far beyond the warning threshold. If there were any problems with this acquisition, the entire group would be thrown into crisis.
I smiled faintly.
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In the distance, the Gilbert Group’s office building was ablaze with lights. They must be working around the clock on the merger.
Another week had slipped by.
“Ms. Hayward, the documents are ready.” My assistant placed a proposal in front of me. “I’ve scheduled the meeting with Westbrook Bank’s team for tomorrow afternoon.”
I flipped to the first page. The bold letters at the top read:
“Rosewood Financial.”
This was the company I had co–founded with several female entrepreneurs.
“Rosewood” was derived from the idea of “blossoming in autumn.”
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Like us, the women who had been knocked down by life, we grew stronger with every setback.
The door opened, and Mrs. Smith walked in. “The board has approved it. We’ll be taking on the Gilbert Group project.”
I closed the file. “They probably think they have already won.”
“Are you really going to go through with this?”
“I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.” I stood up and gazed out the window at the dazzling city lights. “This time, it’s their turn to be desperate.”
My phone buzzed.
It was a message from Errol: *“I hear you’re
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doing well outside? Guess someone must pity you enough to take you in.“*
I didn’t reply.
Another message popped up: *“Don’t think just because you found a job that you’re impressive. You’ll never measure up to Barbara.”*
Then another post appeared on my screen:
*“Congrats to Barbie on her promotion to VP of the Gilbert Group. Celebrating tonight–no limits!“*
Accompanied by a picture of champagne and roses.
How nice. They were still lost in the comfort of their happiness.
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I opened the drawer and pulled out a file.
The cover boldly read: *“Evidence of Financial Fraud by the Gilbert Group.”*
Inside were all the pieces of incriminating evidence I had gathered over the past two months.
I had given up my career for this man, only to be met with betrayal and humiliation.
This time, I would make them realize that they hadn’t just destroyed the life of a housewife, but shattered the dignity of a woman in the professional world.
The phone on the desk buzzed again.
It was a message from Derry’s former classmate’s mother, someone I once considered a close friend: *“Derry’s grades
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have been plummeting lately. Barbara’s tutoring is absolutely useless.“*
I put the phone down and gazed out at the distant neon lights.
Soon, you’ll all know that the Amelia who once ruled the financial world never truly disappeared.
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