Brody - Ellie Masters Page 0,114

all out, especially after last night. But first, there’s the issue of Mark.

“As for last night…” I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t want to rush into something because I may, or may not, be pregnant. That’s not a good enough reason.”

“I love you. That’s the best reason, and you said you loved me. You can’t run from what’s happening between us.”

“No, but I can put it on pause. Don’t call me. I’ll call you. As for Sterling Enterprises, excuse yourself. Sign over our account to some junior executive who can use the experience. I can’t work with you and remain objective.”

The muscles tic in his jaw as he clamps his teeth tight together. “And how long is this pause going to last?” He’s not happy. Tension coils in his entire body, and I sense he’s a moment from losing control.

“I don’t know.”

“If you talk to Mark, you’ll know what I’ve said is the truth.”

“Whether it is, or isn’t, there’s still the matter of keeping this from me.” I run my fingers through my hair to hide the way my hand shakes.

“I did it because I was concerned.”

“Stop.” I hold out my hand, palm facing him. “I told you I’m not in a good place where I can talk this out. Please, just drive away. Give me the space I need.” I hate the way my voice shakes. Sending Brody away is perhaps the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It feels all kinds of wrong, but I need to be sure.

I need to not just see it or hear it. I need to feel his words are true, and I hate that I don’t. The doubts swirling in my head are poisonous.

He curls his lower lip and stares out the front window. “My assistant will contact you on Monday with the name of the person who will be taking over your account.”

“Thank you.”

His green gaze cuts to me. “I’m not losing you over something like this. Not after…” His lips press together, and his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow.

“I’ll call you when I’m ready.” Those may be the hardest words I’ve had to say in a very long time. “I promise.” Before he can say anything else, I spin around and head inside.

The car doesn’t move for several long moments, but the crunching of tires over gravel finally signifies his departure. It takes a while before I stop shaking, then it’s time to sit down and do some hard thinking.

Mom and Mark, half-siblings who ran a relatively successful business up until a few years ago, loved each other, or so I thought. The things Brody said might be true, but how do I confirm it without tipping my hand to Mark?

And that’s the rub right there.

I believe Brody.

My faith should be in my uncle. Instead, Brody’s truth is the one I believe.

But I do my own digging. That begins with a phone call to Asher, who confirms everything Brody mentioned. Somehow, Mark’s been shuttling crop harvested from the fields and diverting it elsewhere.

But where?

For the rest of the afternoon, I look through the books, tracking every penny. With Asher’s help, I uncover nearly a million in lost revenue going back over ten years.

Mark’s been patient.

He’s been stealing from the business for a decade and increasing what he takes each year.

Embezzlement.

It’s a crime, one I’ll have to deal with because I can’t ignore it. Those millions are unreported income the IRS will be interested in. If I don’t do the right thing, they’ll come after me for tax fraud, not to mention I’ll have to pay back taxes on that income and any associated fines. That’s one sure way to bankrupt my company.

But I’m going to do my own investigation and make sure I’ve got my ducks in a row. There are people to call, advice I need, and I can’t talk to Brody.

I’m not ready for that.

So, I reach out to a couple of my professors at Stanford who specialize in embezzlement cases. They connect me with the FBI. After a week, I’ve retained a lawyer, and we have a plan in place. As for Mark, I want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He’s not in his office, which gives me a chance to look around. I find invoices from two separate trucking companies. We’re a small operation, which means we contract out a lot of things, like the trucks which haul our grapes from the field to the warehouses.

There’s