Blake studied the shrilling phone for a while and then picked up the receiver.
“Hello, Blake Carter on the line,” he said into the mouthpiece and leaned back in his seat. His fingers tapping a soundless rhythm against his polished mahogany desk.
“Blake, it’s Derek. Check your email. We won!” His voice crackled with excitement, his joy palpable even through the phone. The hotel deal had finally come through.
“We are the highest bidder! The hotel is going to be ours, Blake! We actually did it!”
“Yes, we did it.” A wave of excitement surged throughout his body. “I told you we would. So what’s next now?”
“You just check our email box. Everything is there.”
“Okay, listen,” he sat upright in his seat. “I will do just that, and call you later at night so we can talk better.”
“Great!” Derek replied, his voice brimming with satisfaction. That’s fine. I will expect your call.”
Blake returned the receiver and closed his eyes, savoring the moment.
He closed his eyes, savoring the moment. The years of hard work, the sleepless nights, the countless meetings, were all culminating in his growth. He was so happy that he could build his own personal wealth along with making money for the family.
He raised his hand to check for the time on his Rolex Daytona yellow gold wristwatch. It was still forty-two minutes before the closing hour. He turned to one of the two laptops opened on his desk and opened his email box to read the mail.
He nodded, reading through. The company had asked them to go ahead with their investigation and alignment as to start the selling off process. He was reading through the mail, his brow furrowed in concentration, when a soft knock broke the silence.
“Come in,” he called out.
“Vanessa?” He asked, not looking away from his computer screen.
“It’s after six, Mr. Carter,” she set a file on the desk. “Accounts sent in this and I’m heading out for the day.”
“Okay Vanessa,” he finally looked into the woman’s face. “Thanks, goodnight. My regards to Allan and your granddaughter.”
“Okay, Mr. Carter, goodnight.” A little smile played on her lips. “I hope you won’t stay too long?”
“Not at all, Vanessa,” he replied and picked up the file she set on his desk.
She smiled more, knowing he was just saying that. Vanessa knew he would still spend about two hours in the office before going home. She let herself out of his office quietly.
Just a few moments after Blake returned to the mail he was reading, his phone buzzed on his desk. It was a video call from Jayce’s Nanny’s phone. A smile spread across his face, knowing it was Jayce who wanted to talk to him.
He swiped across his phone screen. “Hey, Punky,” he answered, his voice softening. “What’s up?”
“Dad, when are you coming home?” Jayce asked, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and impatience, crackling through the speaker. “I want you to help me with my homework. My teacher asked us to write about our father’s job.”
“Wow, that’s beautiful.”
“So I need to ask you some questions.”
“Okay,” Blake leaned back in his seat. “You know what? I will leave the office right away.”
“Good.” Joyce jumped up with his toothy smile.
“See you soon,” Blake said, his fingers moving to shut down his computer, and he cut off the line. Work had to wait. His son needed him now.
Blake moved away from the window and returned to his seat in his study. He and Derek just spoke, and it was already after ten. Blake dropped his phone on his desk and moved to his shelf to look for a document.
He was searching through when his phone rang on the desk in front of him. Blake set the folder in his hand down and reached for his cell phone, his fingers expertly navigating the smooth surface.
“Blake Carter,” he said into the phone, his voice deep and commanding.
“Mr. Carter, this is Detective Reynolds. I believe we need to discuss,” came the voice on the other end.
Blake scrawled his face. He wondered why a detective would call him. “What can I do for you, Detective?” Blake inquired, his voice steady.
“We’ve discovered some unusual activity in your financial portfolio, Mr. Carter. I was hoping to speak with you about it,” Reynolds replied.
“Unusual activities?” Blake’s heart raced as he considered the implications. He had always been careful with his finances. “I don’t seem to understand. What do you mean?”
“Okay,” Reynolds cleared his throat. “Let me rephrase, someone is trying to frame you for illicit activities.”
“This is terrible,” Blake muttered and stood up. He hated what was happening. “Someone using my name for illicit activities? How?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say more on the phone,” the detective said. “You will have to come down to the station tomorrow.”
“Of course, of course, Detective. I’ll come to the station to speak with you. When would you like to meet?”
“One pm should be fine. Don’t forget to bring any relevant documents that might help us understand the situation,” Reynolds instructed.
“It’s perfect. I’ll see you then,” Blake replied, ending the call.
The room spun around him as he faced the reality of his situation. He wondered why someone would be so callous to be using another person’s identity for crime.
He dialed his account adviser and told him what had just happened.
“That can’t be true,” his adviser said from the other end.”
“But that was what the detective told me.”
“All the same,” he said, “I will go with you to meet the detective tomorrow. What time is it?”
“I will appreciate that,” Blake said, feeling some measure of relief. “It’s one pm. Is it okay for you?”
“Yes, I will meet you there.” He said, and they bade each other a goodnight and disconnected the line.
Blake sank down on the sofa. The once warm and inviting study now felt cold and uninviting. He didn’t feel like staying up to do any more work tonight.