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By the time the rising sun lightened the sky, she’d devised a plan. One that would kill her to enact, but it would save Barrett Investment Group and Gerard’s position as head. Her career would remain in the gutter, and she’d be starting over. Again.
It was the only gift she could give him. He’d never know this was her apology. Again, not important. The only thing that mattered was him.
Rowan couldn’t call this early, so she lay back down on the couch and shut her eyes. Ten minutes later, she was up and pacing the floor again. At the open window, she watched a sleepy Haight wake up. The smell of yeast bread from the women-owned bakery on the corner wafted in. Mrs. Rosen was already outside painstakingly watering her flower baskets. Traffic on Octavia was still sparse, but picking up.
Life moved on. Rowan went to take a shower, knowing she wouldn’t sleep until she made this call. Two hours. She could call in two hours. Then she could sleep and begin picking up the pieces of her heart—currently littering the floor of her condo like tear-soaked tissues.
Two hours.
On Friday, three days after the last time he’d seen Rowan, Gerard stared out his office window at the San Francisco skyline. It had always been a solace to him, this view. Today, he barely saw it.
He’d been duped. Again. First Brittney, now Rowan. And, if he was honest with himself, he needed to add Mary to that list. Faking a pregnancy right after high school just to reel him and his money in. Although how a woman thought she could carry out a lie like that, he still didn’t understand. Thankfully, she’d bragged to a girlfriend, who told her boyfriend, who let him in on the secret before it became fodder for the paparazzi.
Why did he let women do this to him? High school to now, they all had an angle and not one single bit of remorse about pursuing that. That pledge he’d made with the guys had been a good thing. Except he’d already broken it, with nothing to show but a wounded heart.
Rubbing a hand over his chest, Gerard realized that, once again, he’d let a woman get past his defenses. He had feelings for Rowan. Or had, until her deception. He’d let her in, believed her to be different from the others, with her hair in disarray, a smile that brightened the dreariest of days, and a mind sharp enough to entangle him. Not to mention a body meant for loving.
No. He wouldn’t think about that. She wasn’t any different than other women.
McCarthy. She’d lied about her name as well. Why wasn’t she going by Rowan Murdoch? What the hell kind of background check had Emersyn done? He should have done the deep dive himself.
Shaking his head again, he turned as his office door opened and his sister stepped in, glaring at him. What was that about?
“We need to talk,” she said without preamble.
“Yes, we do.” He sat in his office chair, work just about the farthest thing from his mind. “Explain to me exactly what you discovered about Rowan before you decided to hire her?”
“I—” She looked away with a deep frown.
He knew his sister pretty well and saw the struggle in her expression. Whatever this was, she wasn’t happy about it. Better to rip the band aid off. “What?” he asked again.
She sat down across from his desk and took a deep breath. “I know who’s been undermining the company.”
“So do I.” Gerard slumped back in his chair, unable to say the words out loud. “Did you know Rowan is a Murdoch?”
“It’s not Rowan.”
“She’s a Murdoch.” He all but spit the words out. “Did you know?”
The hurt showed in Emersyn’s eyes. “Yes, I knew, and I still wanted to hire her. She took her mother’s maiden name before she went off to college. She started at entry level at Murdoch and fought for the one promotion she got. And she tried to change things, but couldn’t. Gerard, that’s not important right now.”
“Bullshit. It’s everything. She’s pulled the same stunts here that her brother and father have there.”
“No, she hasn’t. And I have the proof.”
He sat forward, frowning. “What proof?”
Emersyn pulled a flash drive out of her pocket and handed it to him. “I, umm, didn’t want to email it.”
He took the drive and plugged it into his computer.
“Open the Excel spreadsheet,” Emersyn said, coming around the desk. “See this,” she said when he did so. “It’s all the changes that were made to funds. And all the board meetings that occurred right before each change. There are documents attached that show the affected funds were discussed in each board meeting.”
The spark of hope inside him deflated. “That shows a trend, not proof of who is behind this. We need to tie it irrefutably to Silverman. And to Rowan McCarthy.”
“Pull up the video.” Emersyn pointed at the file with tight lips.
The video showed an empty conference room. He glanced at Emersyn.
