SEVER Jane, Melissa (management books to read .TXT) 📖

shrugs his wiry brows. “Well, Mrs. Cooper, such a thing would only have happened if you co-signed.”

“But I didn’t.”

“You must have.”

I lean forward, struggling to tame my annoyance. “Mr. Burton, I can assure you, I would never have done any such thing, and I would appreciate it if you took this matter seriously.”

“I understand your frustration—”

“Do you?”

“Yes… but perhaps signing the papers simply slipped your mind. You’re both very busy people.”

“I’m a million percent certain I would have remembered such a thing.”

 “Well, here at East State, we follow procedures—”

“Then your procedure is either broken or someone within this building has been helping my husband commit fraud. I don’t think I need to remind you that such a thing is a criminal act, and I will get to the bottom of this. In fact, I would like to see the papers I’ve supposedly signed.”

Burton’s eyes narrow in challenge as my threats of legal action sink in. For someone who has a corrupt member of staff, he sure is defensive. He leans forward and presses a button on his phone.

“Mr. Burton?” the receptionist asks.

“Bring in the files for Mr. and Mrs. Cooper.”

For a full minute, we sit in stony silence, the wall clock a reminder of each passing second. This is certainly not how I saw the meeting going. The office door opens, and the receptionist hands over a manila folder. Burton rifles through some paperwork before finding the adjusted mortgage papers. He holds them in his meaty hand. If eyes could smirk, his are doing it right now.

“Hopefully this answers your question and puts your accusations to rest.” He hands me the paperwork, opened to the signing page.

What the actual fuck?

Indeed, my signature is right there next to Shawn’s, accepting the terms and conditions of re-mortgaging our beautiful home. A home we’ve worked so hard to pay off.

My heart pounds painfully against my rib cage and I grow lightheaded. The bastard’s actually done it. I study the curls and swishes of my signature and how they perfectly align as if it were done by my very hand.

Except, it wasn’t.

Irritated Shawn has gone to these lengths, I drop the paperwork back on the desk. “Which member of staff authorized this?”

Burton slowly sits forward, lacing his jeweled fingers. “Mrs. Cooper, that would be me.”

~

“We have an ETA on the velvet textured wallpaper for Mr. Alexander’s project. Apparently, it’s being made in Amsterdam so there will be some delay. The chandeliers, however, should be arriving…” I zone out for a minute or two, when I hear, “Blythe? Did you hear a word I said?” Amanda drops her fork in the salad bowl. Her gaze moves around the lunchtime crowd at Effie’s Café before settling back on me. “Blythe!”

“What?” I ask, sighing. “What did I miss?”

Her eyes widen a fraction. “Nothing, it can wait. What’s going on? You haven’t touched your lunch, and you don’t look… your usual vibrant self.”

“Do you ever get the feeling those closest to you are the ones conspiring against you?”

She chews slowly, weighing up how to respond. “Well…” she starts, swallowing her mouthful, “when I was seven, my brother convinced me to steal a twenty-pack of colored connector pens. You know… when they became all the rage? Anyway, he convinced me it was a good idea, and who was I to know better, I was only eight. So, I did it. I went to the corner store newsagency. Mr. Chang knew my family well, but I didn’t take that into consideration. He greeted me by name when I walked in, and when he was busy serving another customer, I went to the stationary aisle and found the markers in question. I remember feeling a sense of adrenaline and nerves. The packet was huge but flat, so when my aisle was clear, I was able to stuff it up my sweater. I walked back down the store with my arms folded tightly across my chest, holding the markers in place.

“I think back and realize how obvious it would have been, but back then, I thought I’d become an expert thief. What I didn’t know, and what my brother failed to tell me, was that the store had those round security mirrors hanging up in the ceiling corners and Mr. Chang had watched the whole event unfold.

“I was halfway over the threshold with my foot still in the air, thinking I was home free. Watching my brother sitting on his bike in the parking lot smirking, Chang grabbed me by the hood of my sweater and yanked me back inside, the markers slipping out and onto the ground. I’d been caught red-handed, yet I still pleaded my innocence because my big brother had also failed to tell me what to do and say in the event of getting caught. I was such an idiot to believe him.

“Anyway, Chang called my dad. Back in those days everyone was listed in the white pages. Minutes later, Dad arrived all humble and apologetic for my behavior. I remember we both stood at the counter talking with Mr. Chang and my dad had a firm grip around my neck. It took all the strength I had not to wet my pants.

“When we got home, my father did the one thing I wasn’t expecting. He didn’t punish me, and trust me he wasn’t shy in delivering heavy-handed beatings, but this time was different… this time he ignored me. I’d hurt him, and his disappointment in me was worse than receiving the usual punishment. When I tried to apologize, he acted as if I weren’t even in the same room as him. For a week, he didn’t speak or even glance at me. All while my brother, the one who’d convinced me to become a thief in the first place, walked around the house still wearing the same