Chapter 3 - Tell Me the Truth
Agent Torres called again four days later.
This time, I answered.
“I told you everything I know.”
“I need one clarification.”
“I’m at work.”
“This will take thirty seconds. Has Conrad ever mentioned a man named Everett Sloan?”
I knew the name.
Sloan was Conrad’s chief financial officer.
I had met him once at dinner.
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“He introduced us at a restaurant. That’s it.”
“Did Sloan know about your son’s medical payment?”
“I have no idea.”
Torres paused.
“Thank you.”
I hung up.
Behind me, someone spoke.
“Who was that?”
I turned.
Conrad stood at the end of the corridor.
“Hospital administration.”
His face changed almost imperceptibly.
He knew.
Not the details.
But he knew I was lying.
The next evening, Arthur Harlow returned for a follow-up appointment.
Conrad came with him.
I avoided Conrad for forty minutes.
It was childish.
It was also unsuccessful.
I stepped into the staff elevator after my shift.
The doors began closing.
A hand appeared between them.
The doors reopened.
Conrad stepped inside.
“We need to talk.”
My pulse jumped.
“Conrad.”
“Not here.”
He pressed the penthouse button.
“Upstairs.”
Then came the sentence I had been dreading.
“And then you’re going to tell me exactly what you said to Agent Torres.”
I stared at him.
“How do you know her name?”
“I have security.”
“You had me followed?”
His jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Then how?”
“She approached another Harlow employee yesterday.”
The elevator began rising.
“You lied to me.”
“I was scared.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
His expression hardened anyway.
“Then tell me the truth.”
The doors opened onto the private penthouse lounge used for donors and executive meetings.
Conrad waited until we were alone.
“What did Torres ask?”
“Questions about you.”
“What questions?”
“Shipping manifests. Transfers. Whether you ever asked me to carry money or documents.”
His face stayed unreadable.
“She asked about Jamie’s surgery.”
That got a reaction.
A very small one.
“What about it?”
“She knew you paid.”
“Of course she knew.”
“She suggested you might have done it to make me owe you.”
Conrad turned away.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then:
“And what did you tell her?”
“That you never asked me for anything.”
He looked back.
“Anything else?”
“She asked about Everett Sloan.”
Conrad went completely still.
“Exactly what did she ask?”
“Whether you had ever mentioned him.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
He stepped closer.
“Lauren, listen carefully. If Torres contacts you again, tell her the truth.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“The complete truth. Every conversation. Every payment. Every dinner. Everything.”
“You aren’t worried?”
“I’m extremely worried.”
“That isn’t what I expected you to say.”
“You expected me to ask you to lie?”
“I don’t know what I expected.”
Something dark moved through his expression.
“Then perhaps you don’t know me as well as I thought.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
I lowered my voice.
“I’m a single mother with a five-year-old son. A federal agent appeared beside my car and told me the man who paid for my child’s heart procedure might be part of a criminal investigation. I was scared.”
That stopped him.
Conrad’s shoulders eased.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I know what fear looks like.”
“Then stop interrogating me.”
His gaze softened.
“You’re right.”
I had not expected that.
He moved farther away, giving me space.
“I’m sorry.”
Silence stretched between us.
Finally, I asked, “Is Harlow Maritime doing something illegal?”
“No.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Is Everett Sloan?”
Conrad looked toward the windows.
“I don’t know.”
My stomach tightened.
“That’s not comforting.”
“For twelve months, money has been disappearing through subsidiaries tied to our Asia-Pacific operations. Small amounts initially. Then larger transfers.”
“How large?”
“Eight figures.”
I stared at him.
“And you didn’t notice?”
“I noticed three weeks ago.”
“Before meeting me?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“I started an internal audit.”
“That sounds like the exact thing guilty people say in movies.”
His mouth twitched despite the situation.
“This isn’t a movie.”
“Then call Agent Torres.”
“I already did.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Yesterday.”
“You’re cooperating with the FBI?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you’re a nurse, Lauren. You have a child. This has nothing to do with you.”
“It does now.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Because you paid Jamie’s bill?”
“No.”
He looked directly at me.
“Because someone accessed your hospital employment file two nights ago.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
“What?”
“My security team flagged it.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“Why would anyone care about me?”
“Because they know I care about you.”
The room went quiet.
Those words landed harder than any declaration could have.
I whispered, “Conrad.”
He stepped toward me.
“I should have stayed away.”
“That’s not what I want.”
“I may not care what you want if keeping you safe requires it.”
Anger flared.
“You don’t get to decide my life.”
“No.”
His gray eyes held mine.
“But I can decide what happens around mine.”
My phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
There was an image attached.
Jamie leaving kindergarten with my neighbor that afternoon.
Below it were six words:
Tell Harlow to stop asking questions.
The blood drained from my face.
Conrad took one look at the screen.
And the calm man I knew disappeared.
Not into rage.
Into something colder.
He pulled out his phone.
“Daniel.”
One of his security men answered immediately.
“Lock down Mercer’s apartment. Get a team to Jamie.”
I grabbed Conrad’s sleeve.
“My son—”
“He’s fine.”
“You don’t know that.”
Conrad put the phone on speaker.
Thirty seconds later, a man answered from outside my neighbor’s building.
“We have visual contact. Jamie’s inside. Safe.”
My knees weakened.
Conrad caught me.
Then he looked at the threatening message again.
“This ends tonight.”
I stared at him.
“What are you going to do?”
He lifted his eyes.
“Exactly what Torres asked me to do.”
“What?”
May you like
“Tell the FBI everything.”
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