“I Fixed My CEO’s Broken Fence — Then She Personally Thanked Me Over Dinner”
Chapter 4
Victoria didn’t speak for several seconds.
“What did your father do?”
“Construction.”
“Nothing connected to Whitmore Industries?”
“Not officially.”
She stared at me.
“What does unofficially mean?”
I looked at the symbol again.
“My father used to work on private contracts.”
“For whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t?”
“I was sixteen when he died.”
Victoria sat down.
“How did he die?”
“Heart attack.”
She looked at me carefully.
“Was it sudden?”
“Yes.”
“Any investigation?”
“No.”
She folded her hands.
“Daniel, I think our fathers knew each other.”
I shook my head.
“My father never mentioned your company.”
“My father never mentioned yours either.”
We sat in silence.
Then Victoria said:
“Tomorrow morning, come to my office.”
“Why?”
“I want you to look at something.”
The next morning, I entered the executive floor for the first time.
Everyone stared.
I wasn’t wearing a suit.
I was wearing work boots and a maintenance uniform.
The receptionist looked confused.
“I’m here to see Victoria.”
“Ms. Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
She called upstairs.
A minute later, an assistant appeared.
“Mr. Reed?”
I nodded.
“She’s waiting.”
Victoria’s office was enormous.
Glass walls overlooked downtown Chicago.
She stood beside a table covered with documents.
“Close the door.”
I did.
She pushed a blueprint toward me.
“This was found in my father’s safe.”
I studied it.
It showed an underground facility.
“What’s this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is it?”
“Under our old manufacturing plant in Indiana.”
I looked at the dimensions.
“This is huge.”
“Exactly.”
I traced a line with my finger.
“There are tunnels.”
“Yes.”
“Why would a factory have tunnels?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at the blueprint again.
Then I saw something.
A small symbol.
The same mark from the fence.
My heart started beating faster.
“Your father wasn’t building a factory.”
Victoria frowned.
“What?”
“This is a secure storage facility.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
She leaned closer.
“Can you tell how old it is?”
“At least twenty years.”
“My father bought the property twenty-three years ago.”
I looked at her.
“Then he built it.”
“Probably.”
She pulled out another document.
“This was found with the blueprint.”
It was a handwritten list.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
I recognized several names.
Politicians.
Judges.
Corporate executives.
Victoria’s face was pale.
“These people received money from my father.”
“Maybe legitimate payments.”
“No.”
She pointed to the last page.
At the bottom was one name.
My father.
I froze.
“Why would my father be here?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
I shook my head.
“I can’t.”
Then I noticed a date.
The final payment was made two days before my father’s death.
I stared at it.
Victoria watched me.
“Daniel?”
I whispered:
“My father wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“What do you mean?”
“He told me he was working out of town.”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed.
“When?”
“Two days before he died.”
She stepped back.
“My father died two days after that payment.”
We looked at each other.
Neither of us needed to say it.
Our fathers may have died because they knew too much.
The office door suddenly opened.
Victoria’s assistant stepped in.
“Sorry.”
She looked nervous.
“Someone from security found this at the rear fence.”
She handed Victoria a small envelope.
Victoria opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed me repairing the fence.
Taken from the woods.
On the back, someone had written:
You should have left it broken.
Victoria’s face hardened.
I stared at the photograph.
“Someone was watching me.”
She nodded.
“And now they’re watching both of us.”
