Chapter 3 - The Panic of the Parasite
By noon, the panic inside Whitmore Development was absolute.
Vendors were calling about bounced checks. The payroll department was locked out of the system. Sienna paced Grant’s corner office, her aggressive, modern confidence entirely shattered. She was no longer wearing Claire's silk robe; she was wearing a wrinkled blouse, chewing her manicured thumbnail down to the quick.
“Grant, what is happening?” Sienna demanded, her voice shrill. “The title company just called. If we don’t wire the $2.8 million for the waterfront acquisition by 5:00 p.m., we lose the escrow and default on the bridge loan!”
“I know!” Grant roared, hurling his phone against the wall, shattering the screen.
“Well, fix it!” Sienna snapped. “Call your wife! Beg her, threaten her, do whatever you have to do to unlock those accounts!”
Grant looked at the young woman he had believed was his equal. In the cold light of a financial crisis, Sienna was not hungry for success; she was simply hungry for his money. And the moment the money stopped flowing, her adoration vanished.
“I can’t call her,” Grant whispered, dropping into his leather chair, running shaking hands over his face.
“Why not?”
“Because she legally owns the company, Sienna. And she knows about the money I funneled to your LLC.”
Sienna froze. The color drained from her perfectly contoured face.
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“What do you mean, she knows?” Sienna choked out. “Grant, those transfers were supposed to be classified as marketing expenditures!”
“Claire built the accounting architecture of this firm,” Grant said, his voice hollow. “She didn't just find out. She's been watching us steal from her for two years. She let us build the trap, and yesterday morning, she finally closed the door.”
