Chapter 8 - The Brother Who Knew Too MuchVictoria did not cry when we told her.
That somehow made it worse.
She sat in Andrew’s private office, completely still, staring at the photograph Nathan had sent us from airport security footage.
Martin Keller.
Marcus Hale.
Sitting together inside a terminal café.
Time stamp: 6:47 a.m.
Three hours before the infant formula recall became public.
Her brother had known.
“Play the next image,” Victoria said.
Nathan did.
Marcus handing Martin an envelope.
Another frame.
Martin passing a small device across the table.
Another.
Marcus leaving.
Martin remaining behind.
Victoria’s face had become unreadable.
Andrew stood near the windows.
“Where is your brother now?”
“I don’t know.”
“You need a better answer.”
Victoria looked at him.
“I said I don’t know.”
“Andrew,” I warned softly.
He did not look at me.
“This affects my employees, my company and my family.”
“And you think I don’t understand that?”
Victoria stood.
For the first time, her controlled professionalism cracked.
“My brother may have participated in threatening a fourteen-month-old child. Do you actually think I’m protecting him?”
Andrew stayed silent.
She continued.
“I left Beaumont because of Marcus.”
There was pain now.
Raw enough to make everyone in the room stop.
“He didn’t just approve Harrow Ingredients.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he do?”
Victoria looked at me.
“Three years ago, Beaumont launched a children’s nutrition supplement in South America.”
I vaguely remembered it.
It had disappeared from the market quickly.
“Officially, sales were disappointing.”
“That was a lie.”
Her voice became quieter.
“There were contamination reports.”
Andrew’s expression sharpened.
“How many?”
“Eleven confirmed.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
“No deaths. But several children were hospitalized.”
“Why wasn’t this public?”
“Because Beaumont settled privately.”
I felt sick.
“And Marcus?”
“He knew the supplier had failed quality tests before launch.”
My hand automatically covered my daughter.
“He approved production anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because delaying the launch would have cost twelve million dollars.”
The room went silent.
Twelve million.
A number on a spreadsheet.
Children in hospitals.
I suddenly understood why Victoria looked at product safety the way she did during our recall.
Why she had hesitated initially—not because she did not care, but because she knew exactly where that road could lead.
“I discovered the internal reports,” she continued. “I went to Conrad Beaumont.”
“The founder,” Andrew said.
“Our grandfather.”
I stared at her.
“Your grandfather?”
Victoria nodded.
“Hale is my father’s surname. My mother was Conrad Beaumont’s daughter.”
That explained more than I could process.
“You’re part of the Beaumont family.”
“Yes.”
Andrew’s face hardened.
“And you omitted that.”
“I disclosed the relationship during hiring.”
“You disclosed that Marcus was your brother. Not that Conrad Beaumont was your grandfather.”
“I stopped considering those people family years ago.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make professionally.”
Victoria flinched.
Andrew’s words had landed exactly where they were meant to.
I stepped between the emotional currents before everything exploded.
“Why did you leave?”
Victoria looked at me.
“Because my grandfather told me to destroy the reports.”
“And?”
“I copied everything and submitted it anonymously to regulators.”
My eyebrows rose.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Someone inside the regulatory agency leaked the complaint back to Beaumont. By the time investigators requested documents, the files were gone.”
Andrew swore quietly.
“Marcus knew it was you.”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“Destroyed my career inside the company. Removed my team. Accused me of disloyalty. Eventually, I resigned.”
“And joined us.”
“Three years later.”
Andrew looked unconvinced.
“Why Leprince?”
Victoria gave him a tired smile.
“Because you were the one competitor my grandfather hated enough to fear.”
Strangely, that answer made perfect sense.
Nathan entered.
“We found Martin Keller.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“Police picked him up at a hotel twenty minutes from the airport.”
Andrew’s expression turned cold.
“Is he talking?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Nathan hesitated.
“He asked for Dr. Elila Leprince.”
Everyone looked at me.
“What?”
“He says he will speak only to you.”
Andrew answered immediately.
“No.”
“Andrew.”
“No.”
“Why me?”
Nathan shook his head.
“He didn’t say.”
Andrew was already calling legal counsel.
I caught his wrist.
“I’m going.”
“Absolutely not.”
“He specifically asked for me.”
“That is exactly why you’re not going.”
“Police station.”
“No.”
“Surrounded by officers.”
“Elila.”
I moved closer.
“You promised to trust me.”
His jaw flexed.
“That promise did not include walking into conversations with people who threatened our child.”
“We don’t know Martin sent the photograph.”
“We know he helped compromise your credentials.”
“Then I want to know why.”
“You can watch remotely.”
“He might not talk.”
“Then he doesn’t talk.”
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Victoria, incredibly, stepped in.
“She should go.”
Andrew turned.
“Stay out of this.”
“No.”
Victoria’s voice remained calm.
“If Keller asked for Elila, he expects something. That expectation may be useful.”
“I’m not using my pregnant wife as interrogation bait.”
“I’m not bait,” I said.
Andrew looked at me.
“I’m a scientist who worked beside him for eighteen months.”
Silence.
“I know Martin. Or I thought I did. That matters.”
Finally, after an argument involving three lawyers, two security specialists and one police detective, Andrew agreed.
Under conditions.
So many conditions.
I met Martin inside an interrogation room while Andrew watched through one-way glass.
Martin looked terrible.
Unshaven.
Exhausted.
Terrified.
Not like a criminal mastermind.
Like a man who had made a terrible mistake and discovered too late that he could not escape it.
He looked at my belly first.
Then at my face.
“I’m sorry.”
Anger surged through me.
“For which part?”
“Elila—”
“My stolen credentials? The supplier? The recall? Or the photograph of my son?”
His head snapped up.
“Photograph?”
I watched carefully.
The confusion looked genuine.
“Oliver.”
“What happened to Oliver?”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
I sat opposite him.
“Someone photographed him and threatened us.”
Martin went pale.
“I swear to God, Elila, that wasn’t me.”
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
He looked down.
“You shouldn’t.”
At least that was honest.
“Tell me about Marcus Hale.”
Fear crossed his face.
“He approached me.”
“When?”
“Five months ago.”
“Why?”
“He knew my project had been canceled.”
“Who canceled it?”
Martin laughed bitterly.
“Apparently nobody.”
“What does that mean?”
“I received an executive notice saying funding was being redirected to your laboratory.”
My stomach sank.
Another fake authorization.
“You thought I took your project.”
“Yes.”
“Martin, why didn’t you ask me?”
“Because you were the CEO’s wife.”
There it was.
The resentment.
“I watched you go from intern to executive laboratory director in less than two years.”
“I hadn’t even accepted the director position five months ago.”
“I know that now.”
“But you believed it then.”
He looked ashamed.
“Marcus showed me internal documents.”
“Fake.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“He said Beaumont wanted information. Nothing dangerous. Manufacturing schedules. Supplier standards. Product-development timelines.”
“You gave him company information.”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“For money?”
“At first.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand.”
I stared at him.
“And later?”
“He asked me to authorize Harrow.”
“Using my credentials.”
Martin closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why mine?”
“Because Marcus said your approval would prevent procurement from questioning it.”
My anger sharpened.
“You chose me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. Look at me.”
He did.
“You knew I was pregnant with Oliver when I developed that formula. You knew how much that product meant to me. And you attached my name to a supplier you knew had quality problems.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew enough.”
“Elila, Marcus told me the stabilizer was equivalent.”
“You’re a chemist.”
He looked down.
Exactly.
He knew better.
“You saw what you wanted to see because you were angry.”
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
My eyes burned.
“Did you install the keylogger?”
“Yes.”
“Victoria’s too?”
“No.”
I froze.
“What?”
“I only installed yours.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then who installed hers?”
“I don’t know.”
Behind the glass, I knew Andrew and Nathan were reacting.
“Did Marcus?”
“I never saw him inside Leprince.”
“Who else are you working with?”
“No one.”
“Martin.”
“I swear.”
Then his expression changed.
A realization.
“There was someone else.”
“Who?”
“I never met them.”
“Explain.”
“Marcus sometimes received instructions through encrypted messages during our meetings. He called the person ‘C.’”
Conrad.
The obvious possibility.
“His grandfather?”
“I thought so.”
“But?”
Martin leaned toward me.
“The last time we met, Marcus got angry.”
“About what?”
“He said C. was changing the plan.”
“What plan?”
“Originally, they only wanted the recall.”
My blood chilled.
“And then?”
“C. wanted Andrew removed from the company.”
I sat completely still.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Elila, I swear.”
Martin’s breathing accelerated.
“I backed out when Marcus started talking about executive access. That’s why I ran. I realized this wasn’t corporate sabotage anymore.”
My hands became cold.
“What was it?”
He looked toward the one-way glass.
Then back at me.
“Something bigger.”
Before I could ask another question, the interrogation-room door opened.
Andrew.
His face was pale.
“Elila. We’re leaving.”
“What happened?”
“Now.”
Something in his voice made me stand immediately.
Outside, Nathan was talking rapidly into his phone.
Police officers were moving.
Victoria stood beside the wall, staring at her own screen.
“What happened?” I demanded again.
Andrew placed his hands on my shoulders.
“There was an explosion.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“Leprince headquarters.”
I could not process it.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Nathan lowered his phone.
“Fire contained. Sixth floor.”
Sixth floor.
Corporate archives.
Andrew’s face went cold.
“That’s where the original Beaumont acquisition due-diligence files were stored.”
Every person in the hallway became silent.
May you like
Someone had just tried to destroy evidence.
And suddenly, Martin Keller was no longer our biggest problem.
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