Chapter 32: A Framework Heart

Sitting at her desk surrounded by the subdued buzz of her office was Scarlet Langston. Long shadows over the elegant furniture and polished wood seeped through the windows from the mellow illumination of the city skyline. Rising from the depths of sadness and poverty, she had worked relentlessly to reconstruct her life after the death of her parents. Her breath seized in her throat, though, when the email alert flashed over the mouse as her fingers lingered over it. The topic line was just "Immediate Action Required: Unauthorised Transactions." She without thinking clicked on the mail. Her gut twisted the instant the contents loaded. It was a formal charge based on a forensic audit showing related questionable financial behaviour on her account. Embezzlement was the evident allegation here. From the company's coffers, millions flowed. She blinked, her eyes hazily reading the terrible specifics. Every phrase felt like a smack, every sentence reminding her of her unstable situation right now. She felt as though a frigid blast of wind struck. Wylock Lockwood. of course. He had directed this. Her head whirled in a confused and terrified frenzy. For what? Why would he advance thus far? Hoping it was a mistake, some twisted error fixable with a few phone calls, she went over the report once more. The specifics, meanwhile, were overly exact.

The transactions fit her access credentials. There was no path out. And the weight of treachery settled alongside the truth. Wyatt was playing his last hand, wrecking her. Should she be lucky, he would just sour her career. Should not be the case, all she had battled would go. Her phone broke her focus with buzz. Bernard, her friend from childhood and confidante, was calling inbound. She had warned him of the conflicts in the business, but she had not ventured to bring up Wyatt's increasing clout. Though he had always been the consoling presence in her life, now she found it impossible to tell him what she had just found. She turned the phone facedown on her desk after pressing her finger to the "reject" button. There was not time for diversions.

She leaned back in her chair and fixed nothing on the screen. Someone who had never cared about the truth was methodically destroying every file she had fought so hard to produce, every attempt to re-establish her family's heritage. Someone who had been a reliable friend until lately. The air in the room seemed to have thickened, grown weighty, stifling. Heart pounding in her chest, Scarlet sat motionless in her office attempting to make sense of the anarchy whirl around her. The office door opened, and she looked up to saw Tucker Beaumont walking in with two security guards and his attorney at side. Once warm and passionate, his eyes now reflected the cold of a man who had reconciled his rage. And he was angry with her. "Scarlet," he pronounced her name as it were a curse. You are under inquiry for embezzlement. You have been taking business property.

The words assaulted the delicate silence like a slap, a forceful snap. Scarlet's throat clenched, and for a brief instant she believed she may choke on the words she could no longer make. Desperate to explain, she opened her mouth, but Tucker's count never changed. She sprang up and managed to mumble, "This is absurd," shaking hands. "Tucker, you know I would never .“ "I know precisely what you’ve been doing, Scar," he said, his voice flat and lacking the compassion it always possessed. "You are a thief; you have been lining your own coffers with my confidence." The words sliced through her, and for the first time since she came at the workplace she felt completely vulnerable. She had looked on him with trust. With everything the past, the present, the future, she had trusted him. And right now he was throwing her towards the wolves. Beside him, the attorney moved ahead carrying a voluminous file of records. He responded, "Here's the evidence," handing the folder in her direction. You have to see for yourself. You trace all of the transactions. Though she couldn't bring herself to touch them, Scarlet's eyes flicked to the papers. Not right now. She understood what they would present, painstakingly created to catch Wyatt's hand. But Tucker's stare felt as though the room was closing in on her. The attorney went on, as if this were a straightforward formality, "you will be placed on administrative leave while we investigate." "Please completely help with the investigation." But Scarlet no longer paid attention. Her sinking in the weight of the moment was literal. Standing before her was Tucker, the guy she had once loved—the man she had once shared in all things. He was her accuser and opponent right now. And the weight of his criticism made her hardly able to breathe. The broad table gleamed beneath the strong fluorescent lights in the packed boardroom. Twelve sets of eyes were focused on Scarlet as she stood at the front, hands closed at her sides. Reading the charges against her, Tucker, seated at the head of the table, had an insensible air. Cold and objective, his voice permeated the room and every syllable cut her heart. Tucker remarked, his eyes never straying from her face, "I have trusted Scarlet Langston for years. "But trust is a fragile thing, and she clearly has betrayed us all." The whispers in the room were intolerable. Scarlet thought she was shrinking, the walls closing in and the air heavy with contempt and incredulity. In all her life, she had never felt more exposed, more vulnerable. "I have looked over the facts," Tucker said, his voice slicing through the suspense like a razor. "And I am left with no option except to let her go from the company right now. Here she is no more welcome. Scarlet attempted to breathe, try to talk, but her words froze in her throat and her chest constricted. How have things turned out? How had the man who had held her so gently evolved into someone able to ruin her with just one word? She said, her voice hardly audible, "I'm innocent." Tucker, though, did not answer.

He hardly turned to glance at her. Scarlet turned on her heel and left the room, her heels tapping forcefully on the marble floor as murmuring erupted. Every action seemed like a failure, every breath a weight. She was leaving behind her career, reputation, and worst of all, Tucker. Everything. Later that afternoon, Scarlet sat hunched over her desk, the weight of the day falling on her once again in the isolation of her office. Her head was a disorganised mass of doubt, rage, and incredulity. She felt as though she had nowhere to run from and the globe was closing in on her. Not seeing anything, she fixated on the computer screen. Bernard's email had arrived, but she felt unable to open it. Her last want was not pity. Not when the guy she had once loved had just wrecked everything. But something caught her attention just as she was about turn off the laptop. Under the keyboard, a little envelope nestled. Her name was entered on the front in an unusual hand. She scowled, not knowing whether to show it. She tore open the envelope, though, driven by her natural curiosity. Within was one piece of paper. Just a black ink statement without any signature: "Wyatt is not the only one hoping you would be gone. There is someone in the firm framing you. Examining closely. Her pulse faltered. She had not expecting this last item. Who would possibly wish her to be framed? And why had they suddenly sent her this message? She sat back in her chair staring at the letter and felt a chilly chill cover her. The jigsaw pieces did not fit together. Her tormentor, Wyatt, had planned this. Her boss was involved. But another person was involved as well. Who else in the business owned something in seeing her destroyed? The evening unfolded in peaceful solitude.

Scarlet sat by herself in her flat, shadows on the walls created by the low city light. Before her lay the letter, its mysterious message burning a hole in her mind. She no longer knew anyone to trust. Her memory ran back the daily happenings like a loop. Tucker's icy allegation, her colleagues' looks, the deafening quiet as she claimed innocent. And now here is a letter. Was it a warning or merely another effort at control over her? She paced back and forth in the little area running a hand through her hair. Her eyes flicked to the mound of papers covering the coffee table records from the inquiry. She had skimming them previously, but now as her thinking focused she started to dissect the elements. Wyatt participated clearly, but there were other things lurking under the surface. links to the business she had not before observed. Her ideas flew as she tried to fit the jigsaw. It went beyond simply the money. It centred on control. Wyatt had been running the board, removing everybody who might get in his way with every weapon at his disposal. But who else might be lending him assistance? Who could have ruined her, and why? She grew more certain the more she considered: the truth was nearer than she had first assumed. Someone, nevertheless, objected to her discovering it. She promised silently as she closed her eyes. She used to fight. For the truth as much as her career. She wouldn't rest till she unearthed the lies buried so firmly.