Page 1 of Fractured Fate

1

PARANOIA

Charlotte’s heart sank as she stared at the textbook in front of her, overwhelmed by the sinking feeling she’d made a grave mistake by moving four hours away from home to Athens for college.

She stretched her back, shifting on the hard seat of the chair at her classmate’s small dining room table. If she didn’t want to serve tables or work a cash register for the rest of her life, she needed to be here. That understanding did nothing to settle the yearning for her family and friends back in Rosebrook Valley.

Monique drew Charlotte’s attention away from the book. “When I took the financial statement you prepared to Mr. Kay to get his input, he told me the list of total expenditures was wrong.”

Charlotte frowned. “Wrong? What’s wrong with it?”

Monique pointed to a column listing several high-cost trips Mr. Kay and his wife had taken to various well-known vacation spots around the country. “The vacation time.”

“And?”

“He said they didn’t take any vacation time this year.”

Charlotte blinked a few times. She wasn’t mistaken in her research. For confirmation, she glanced toward their other project partner, Rachel, but she was in the kitchen staring out the window at the rain.

Monique sighed, lifting another form to inspect it. “That man never leaves his computer.”

She wasn’t wrong. Based on the logs he provided them, if he wasn’t working, he kept busy playing the stock market. But his bright red nose and arms were a dead giveaway that at least the trip four weeks ago to Puerto Plata was accurate. No one would be that much of a lobster hanging out in the Georgia sun—even someone as pallid as him. The sunburn he sported made his skin appear tight and painful. The blistered spots dotting his red and shiny skin made Charlotte suspect sun poisoning.

“He’s lying,” she said with confidence. The receipts from the beginning of May refuted his claims.

Rachel dropped the curtain and stepped around the bar separating the kitchen from the dining room. “He probably is. I mean, look at him, he looks like a tomato.”

“Oh, I know.” Monique waved a hand. “His wife was bragging about the VIP accommodations at the resort they stayed at when I met with her last week to pick up the paperwork.” Muttering, she added, “Lucky bitch.”

Rachel groaned and dropped her shoulders. “I wish I could take a vacation. It’s June! We’re supposed to be at the beach, not crunching numbers.”

Charlotte pressed her fingers into her eyes, trying to ease the ache behind them from an impending headache. The stress of the situation was taking its toll on her, manifesting itself as a throbbing pain in her temples.

The front door of the apartment opened. “Who wants coffee?”

She looked up from the paperwork at the lighthearted query. Noah, their fourth study partner, stood in the doorway holding a tray of drinks, the hood of his navy-blue sweatshirt partly hiding his face.

“Noah! You’re an angel!” Rachel rushed over and took the tray of drinks from his hands.

“Caffeine addiction isn’t healthy, you know,” Noah said, stepping into the apartment and shutting the door as Rachel snarked about him buying them anyway. He pushed the damp hood from his head and shook out his chin-length, curly brown hair. Dropping into the chair next to Charlotte, he set a bag in front of her. “Got you an apple fritter.”

She looked into the bag and then back at Noah.

“I know you hate coffee.” He gave her a half smile. “Everything okay?”

Her stomach chose that moment to growl. She’d forgotten to eat lunch again.

She huffed, ignoring how her cheeks heated. “Yeah. Mr. Kay is just being difficult. How are we supposed to finish this project if we can’t get him to cooperate? Mr. Hernandez’s paperwork is already squared away, and Monique finished the spreadsheets for the PowerPoint presentation already, but with Mr. Kay contesting whether the data is factual, I don’t know what to do.”

Rachel took a seat next to Monique on Noah’s other side. “He’s so full of it,” she said, before sipping on her coffee. She hummed with contentment. “God, that’s the good stuff.”

Noah turned his attention back to Charlotte. “What’s going on?”

“The vacations his wife confirmed, he’s denying,” Monique said. “It’s easily ten grand in the last twelve months. We can’t overlook it.”

The bright scent of citrus, lavender, and sage of Noah’s cologne wafted up when he leaned in to study the paperwork. Charlotte glanced over at him, taking in his sharp profile. His nose wrinkled, his dark brown brows lowering over narrowed blue eyes.

“Put it in anyway.” Noah slapped his hand on the table as if to say, “problem solved.” He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s just a project. He’s not going to see our presentation, and these reports don’t go to the IRS. It’s on him if he doesn’t claim everything when he files his taxes next year.”