Chapter 7 - The Rule We BrokeFor forty-eight hours, our home became a fortress.
Security guards stood outside every entrance.
Oliver’s nanny was instructed not to leave the property.
Deliveries were screened.
Vehicles were checked.
Andrew even attempted to convince me to sleep in the safe room.
That was where I drew the line.
“I am not sleeping in a concrete box because someone sent a photograph.”
“It has a bed.”
“That is not the relevant part of my sentence.”
“It’s climate controlled.”
“Andrew.”
“And technically not concrete. Reinforced composite.”
I stared at him.
He sighed.
“Fine.”
We compromised by having two guards positioned outside our bedroom.
Romantic.
Our daughter apparently found the entire crisis exciting because she kicked constantly.
Oliver, meanwhile, remained blissfully unaware.
At fourteen months, his biggest concerns were snacks, toy cars and whether Daddy could be persuaded to carry him everywhere like a tiny king.
That evening, I found Andrew in Oliver’s nursery.
Our son was asleep against his chest.
Andrew sat in the rocking chair in darkness, one large hand spread protectively across Oliver’s back.
I stopped in the doorway.
Something about the scene broke my heart.
“Hey.”
Andrew looked up.
“Couldn’t put him down.”
“Wouldn’t or couldn’t?”
A tired smile appeared.
“Both.”
I entered and sat on the rug beside him.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Andrew whispered, “I should have seen this coming.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“I made enemies.”
“You run a corporation. Everyone does.”
“Not like this.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
His silence answered before his mouth did.
I straightened.
“Andrew.”
He carefully stood and transferred Oliver into the crib.
Our son moved slightly, then settled.
Andrew watched him for another moment before leading me into the hallway and closing the nursery door.
“There was an acquisition proposal eight months ago.”
“What acquisition?”
“Beaumont Foods.”
I stared.
“You wanted to buy Victoria’s former company?”
“Not exactly.”
“Andrew.”
“Beaumont approached us.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“Debt.”
He guided me toward the study.
Once inside, he locked the door.
“They’ve been losing market share for years. Their public numbers look stable because they’ve been restructuring debt and selling assets quietly.”
“How bad?”
“Potential bankruptcy within eighteen months.”
“And they wanted Leprince to acquire them.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I refused.”
“Why?”
“Because their liabilities were concealed.”
I frowned.
“What kind?”
Andrew pulled a file from a locked drawer.
“Supplier disputes. Undisclosed quality claims. Possible regulatory investigations in three countries.”
My mind immediately returned to Harrow Ingredients.
“You knew they had quality problems?”
“Not Harrow specifically.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this when the recall started?”
“Because initially I didn’t know it was relevant.”
I folded my arms.
“And now?”
“Now someone is attacking our company using a former Beaumont supplier while targeting Victoria and you.”
“So Beaumont benefits.”
“Yes.”
“But?”
Andrew knew me too well.
“There’s always a but with you.”
“Because you have your hiding-information face.”
“I have no such face.”
“You absolutely do.”
He exhaled.
“Beaumont’s board accepted my refusal.”
“And someone didn’t.”
“The largest individual shareholder.”
“Who?”
“Conrad Beaumont.”
The founder.
Seventy-something.
Legendary in the food industry.
I had written a paper about his early manufacturing strategy during university.
“He still controls the company?”
“Indirectly.”
“What did he do?”
“After I refused the acquisition, he came here personally.”
“When?”
“While you were in the hospital giving birth to Oliver.”
My anger arrived fast.
“You never told me.”
“You were recovering.”
“That was fourteen months ago.”
“I had other priorities.”
“You cannot use loving me as an excuse for keeping relevant information from me.”
His expression tightened.
“You’re right.”
That stopped me.
“You’re agreeing?”
“I’m married, not suicidal.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then immediately became serious again.
“What did Beaumont say?”
Andrew leaned against the desk.
“He said I had humiliated him.”
“By refusing to buy his failing company?”
“Conrad Beaumont doesn’t consider his company failing.”
“Of course.”
“He believed Leprince needed Beaumont’s international distribution network. He expected negotiation. Instead, I walked away.”
“And he threatened you?”
“Not directly.”
“Andrew.”
“He said companies built quickly sometimes collapse quickly.”
A chill moved through me.
“That sounds direct enough.”
“I increased corporate security afterward.”
“But not our personal security.”
“I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think he would come after your family.”
Andrew’s eyes went to my belly.
“No.”
I walked closer.
“Do you think he did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then we find out.”
Andrew’s phone rang.
Nathan.
He answered on speaker.
“We traced the photograph sent to Dr. Leprince.”
My heart accelerated.
“Where?” Andrew asked.
“Disposable device. Purchased in cash.”
“Useless.”
“Not completely. The photo metadata was stripped, but the image itself includes a reflection.”
Nathan sent us an enlarged photograph.
In the window of a parked car behind Oliver, barely visible, was the photographer’s reflection.
Male.
Baseball cap.
Tall.
Face obscured.
But on his wrist was something distinctive.
A watch.
Andrew zoomed in.
I recognized the logo.
“Leprince employee wellness watch.”
Six months earlier, the company had issued smartwatches to employees participating in a health initiative.
Nathan said, “Exactly.”
My skin prickled.
“So definitely internal.”
“Likely.”
“Can the watch identify him?”
“The serial number isn’t visible.”
Andrew asked, “How many were distributed?”
“Four hundred and twelve.”
“Great,” I muttered.
Nathan continued.
“But the model tracks internal access when employees use it instead of ID cards. We’re comparing building logs.”
“How long?”
“We’ve narrowed it to seventeen people who used those watches on both relevant floors.”
That was progress.
“Send me the names,” I said.
Andrew immediately looked at me.
Nathan hesitated.
“Dr. Leprince…”
“Send them.”
“Elila,” Andrew warned.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m looking at names.”
Nathan wisely stayed silent.
Eventually Andrew nodded.
“Send them.”
The list arrived.
Most names meant nothing to me.
Researchers.
IT technicians.
Facilities staff.
Senior managers.
Then one name made my stomach tighten.
Dr. Martin Keller.
My colleague.
Not just colleague.
One of the first scientists who had welcomed me when I was an intern.
Martin had helped me adjust lab equipment when I was pregnant with Oliver.
He had attended our small company baby shower.
He had held my son.
“No.”
Andrew saw immediately.
“You know him.”
“Martin.”
“What about him?”
“He wouldn’t.”
“That isn’t evidence.”
“I know.”
But my voice sounded weak.
Andrew pointed to another name.
“Who is Caleb Ross?”
“Facilities supervisor.”
Another.
“Daniel Cho?”
“Nathan’s cousin. IT.”
Nathan spoke through the phone.
“And already independently cleared. He was in Singapore when the supplier approval happened.”
Andrew crossed out the name.
Sixteen.
I kept staring at Martin Keller.
Something bothered me.
Not because I believed he was guilty.
Because I remembered something.
“The day I came back…”
“What?”
“Martin wasn’t there.”
Andrew waited.
“He normally works Mondays.”
“Could be nothing.”
“Yes.”
But it did not feel like nothing.
I called Sarah.
She answered quickly.
“Elila? How are you? Is Oliver okay?”
“He’s fine. Sarah, strange question. Where has Martin been?”
Pause.
“Dr. Keller?”
“Yes.”
“Vacation, I think.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. Maybe three days.”
“Did he say where?”
Another pause.
“Actually… no.”
Andrew and I exchanged a look.
“Sarah, when did you last see him?”
“Friday.”
Before the recall.
My heartbeat increased.
“Did he seem normal?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
Sarah lowered her voice.
“He got angry during a procurement meeting.”
“About what?”
“Budget cuts.”
Andrew frowned.
“What budget cuts?”
Sarah clearly heard him.
“Oh. Mr. Leprince. Hi.”
“Sarah.”
His CEO voice made her instantly nervous.
“What cuts?”
“Research staffing. Dr. Keller said his project had been canceled.”
I looked at Andrew.
He seemed genuinely confused.
“I didn’t cancel any research positions.”
“That’s what Martin said.”
“Which project?”
“Alternative infant nutrition stabilizers.”
Silence.
My skin went cold.
“Sarah,” I asked carefully, “was Martin working with B-17?”
“Yes. He was actually the secondary researcher on your original formulation.”
I closed my eyes.
How had I forgotten?
Because I had been pregnant.
Because dozens of researchers contributed.
Because Martin’s work had focused mainly on scalability.
But he knew the formula.
He knew the stabilizer.
He knew my workstation.
He knew enough about my account habits to imitate my approvals.
And his name was on the seventeen-person list.
“Send security to Martin Keller’s home,” Andrew told Nathan.
Nathan replied immediately.
“Already moving.”
Twenty minutes later, we received the call.
Martin was gone.
His apartment had been emptied.
Not rushed.
Carefully.
Computer missing.
Clothes removed.
No passport.
No car.
But police found one thing in the kitchen trash.
A Beaumont Foods visitor badge.
Issued three months earlier.
I felt physically ill.
Andrew caught my shoulders.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“Elila.”
“I knew him.”
My voice broke.
“I trusted him.”
“We don’t know everything yet.”
“He held Oliver.”
That was the part I could not stop thinking about.
Martin laughing at our son.
Martin telling me Oliver had Andrew’s stubborn expression.
Martin standing inside our life.
“He held my baby.”
Andrew pulled me against his chest.
For a few moments, I let him.
Then his phone rang again.
Nathan’s voice was urgent.
“We found Keller.”
“Where?”
“Airport.”
My heart jumped.
“Security detained him?”
“No.”
Nathan hesitated.
“Police arrived too late.”
Andrew’s jaw tightened.
“He flew out?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“He wasn’t leaving.”
A pause.
“He was meeting someone.”
“Who?”
Nathan’s next words changed everything.
May you like
“Victoria Hale’s brother.”
Marcus.
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