PART 3 — The Secret Behind the Albright Fortune
“Where is Julian?” I asked.
Chapter 3
PART 3: My Husband Brought Home His Secretary and Newborn Twins—Then His Mother Offered Me $80 Million to Disappear
1,247 words
Paige’s eyes moved toward me.
“Safe.”
“Does he know about the babies?”
“Yes.”
“And he claims to be their father?”
She paused.
“He doesn’t have to claim anything.”
Connor lifted the DNA report.
“This doesn’t prove Julian is their father.”
“No,” Paige agreed. “The direct test does.”
She removed another envelope from her bag.
Connor crossed the room and grabbed it.
He tore it open so quickly the paper ripped.
I could hear his breathing as he read.
Then he dropped the pages onto the table.
Beatrice did not touch them.
She didn’t need to.
Her expression told me she already understood.
Paige folded her arms.
“The probability of paternity is greater than 99.99 percent.”
Connor stared at her as though she were a stranger.
“You slept with my uncle?”
Paige’s eyes became strangely calm.
“Yes.”
“While sleeping with me?”
“Yes.”
A director coughed awkwardly.
Connor took another step toward
her.
“You let me believe those children were mine.”
Paige stood.
“And you let Gwen believe your marriage still existed.”
“That has nothing to do with—”
“It has everything to do with it.”
Her voice was suddenly sharp.
“You thought you were using me because I was younger, impressed by you, dependent on your job. You liked sneaking me into hotels. You liked buying me things. You liked telling me Gwen was cold and ambitious and that one day you’d replace her.”
Connor’s face reddened.
Paige continued.
“But every time you complained about your wife, you told me something useful.”
His anger disappeared.
Not completely.
But enough.
“What did you do?”
Paige smiled.
“There you are.”
Beatrice moved around the table.
“Connor, stop talking.”
He ignored her.
“What did you do?”
Paige opened her handbag and removed a small black recorder.
Daniel immediately straightened.
“Do not play that yet.”
Paige
looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because chain of custody matters.”
She considered this.
Then placed the device carefully on the table.
“I recorded eighteen months of conversations.”
Connor looked sick.
“Private conversations?”
“Very.”
Beatrice slapped her palm against the table.
“You disgusting little parasite.”
Paige turned toward her.
“And yet you invited me into Gwen’s home.”
Beatrice’s face tightened.
That landed.
Paige leaned closer.
“You welcomed me because you thought I had given Connor sons.”
Her hand moved instinctively toward her abdomen, though the twins were nowhere in sight.
“The moment you believed I had delivered heirs, you decided Gwen was disposable.”
Beatrice said nothing.
Paige looked toward me.
“I’m sorry.”
I studied her.
“For which part?”
She seemed surprised.
“The affair.”
“That would be a start.”
“I didn’t expect you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
Her eyes lowered.
I had no interest in making Paige comfortable.
Whatever larger scheme she had
constructed, she had knowingly participated in deceiving me.
But there was a difference between refusing to forgive someone and refusing to listen.
“Why Julian?” I asked.
Paige slowly sat again.
“Because he found me first.”
The room became quiet.
She stared at the photograph.
“My mother worked for Harrison Albright.”
Beatrice’s face changed again.
Paige noticed.
“My mother’s name was Elise Callahan.”
Samuel closed his eyes.
I turned toward him.
“You knew her too?”
He nodded weakly.
Beatrice whispered, “This is absurd.”
Paige ignored her.
“Elise was twenty-four when she started working in the accounting office. She discovered money being moved through shell companies. She told Julian because he was the only partner who seemed concerned.”
Samuel looked toward the door as though he wanted to leave.
Paige continued.
“Julian began asking questions. Harrison and Beatrice accused him of stealing.”
Connor looked toward his mother.
“Is that true?”
“No.”
Paige reached into her bag.
Another document.
Then another.
Daniel muttered, “Where did you get all of this?”
“Julian kept copies.”
She placed faded bank statements across the table.
“Julian was forced out. His partnership interest was transferred for almost nothing. Months later, he disappeared.”
Connor looked at Beatrice.
“You said he died.”
“We believed he had.”
“No,” Paige said. “You hoped he had.”
Beatrice’s face went white.
Paige continued.
“My mother was fired. She tried to testify. No one listened. Two years later, she died.”
I watched Paige’s expression.
There was grief there.
But something else.
Something harder.
“What happened to her?” I asked.
Paige did not answer immediately.
“Officially? Car accident.”
The word officially hung in the room.
Beatrice scoffed.
“Now we’re inventing murder?”
Paige’s eyes snapped toward her.
“I didn’t say murder.”
“You implied it.”
“You heard what frightened you.”
Daniel stepped between them verbally before the situation worsened.
“We need to separate allegations from verified evidence.”
“That’s why I came,” Paige said.
She looked at me.
“Julian wants a meeting.”
“Why me?”
“Because you own fifty-one percent.”
Beatrice laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Paige didn’t look at her.
“And because Julian believes Gwen is the only person in this room who wasn’t part of what happened.”
Connor stared at me.
“You knew about this?”
“No.”
“Convenient.”
I almost laughed.
“You walked into our home carrying the diaper bag of children you believed you fathered with your secretary, and now you’re accusing me of poor communication?”
Samuel covered his mouth, hiding what might have been a smile.
Connor looked ready to explode.
Before he could answer, Daniel’s phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
Then looked at me.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
He turned the phone so I could see.
A financial news alert had appeared.
ALBRIGHT APEX CEO SUSPENDED AMID INTERNAL FRAUD REVIEW.
Another followed moments later.
UNCONFIRMED REPORTS SUGGEST FEDERAL INQUIRY INTO ALBRIGHT RESERVE FUNDS.
Connor cursed.
“Who leaked it?”
No one answered.
Another director checked his phone.
“Our share value is moving.”
Albright Apex was privately controlled but several subsidiary funds had publicly traded debt instruments. Investor panic could spread quickly.
Daniel looked at me.
“You need to issue a statement.”
Connor moved toward the head of the table.
“I’ll handle it.”
“No,” I said.
He stopped.
I looked toward the board.
“Effective immediately, all outgoing transfers over five hundred thousand dollars require dual authorization.”
The CFO nodded.
“Agreed.”
“All records related to Paige Callahan’s consulting payments are preserved.”
Another nod.
“Notify outside counsel that we are voluntarily cooperating with any lawful inquiry.”
Connor slammed his hand down.
“You’re going to invite regulators inside?”
“They’re already outside.”
His face twisted.
“You’ll destroy the company.”
“No. Secrecy destroys companies. Documentation saves them.”
Beatrice laughed without humor.
“You sound exactly like your father.”
The room became very still.
I looked at her.
“What did you say?”
Beatrice realized too late.
“My father?”
She turned away.
My father, Edwin Mercer Vale, had been dead for six years.
He had been a private equity attorney.
Brilliant.
Meticulous.
And deeply suspicious of the Albrights.
He had established the trust that eventually gave me my controlling stake.
At the time, he told me only one thing.
Never surrender voting control.
I had always assumed he distrusted Connor’s judgment.
Now I wondered if there had been another reason.
“How well did you know my father?” I asked.
Beatrice picked up her handbag.
“Well enough.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She moved toward the door.
I stood.
“Beatrice.”
She stopped.
I had never called her by her first name during our entire marriage.
She turned slowly.
“What did my father know?”
Her eyes met mine.
For the first time that morning, every performance disappeared.
No contempt.
No superiority.
Just calculation.
To be continued… 👉 PART 4 👈
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