I stared at the orange cat.

He stared back.

Then he yawned.

“Forged my signature?”

—Yes.

He jumped onto the kitchen counter as if he had just told me the weather.

—Vivian keeps papers in the bottom drawer of her desk. Yesterday, a gray office cat saw her practicing your signature.

I didn’t ask how an office cat knew what forgery looked like.

At that point, a talking orange cat was the most trustworthy person in my life.

“What papers?”

He scratched behind one ear.

—Something about shares. Humans use too many words.

My stomach tightened.

When the company was still small, Mr. Harris had given me a minority equity package instead of a large salary increase.

Adrian knew about it.

Vivian did too.

Those shares had become significantly more valuable after news of the financing round began circulating.

If the deal closed, they could be worth millions.

I opened my laptop.

My ownership still appeared in the internal system.

Nothing unusual.

Then I remembered something.

Two weeks earlier, Vivian had brought several documents to my apartment.

“Routine HR updates,” she had said.

I had been cooking dinner while Adrian repeatedly distracted me with questions.

Vivian kept pointing at signature lines.

“Here.”

“Here too.”

“And initials there.”

I had trusted both of them so completely that I barely read the pages.

My hands went cold.

The next morning, I arrived at the office at 6:40.

Vivian usually arrived after eight.

Her desk was locked.

I didn’t touch it.

Instead, I went directly to Legal.

The company attorney, Laura Chen, looked surprised to see me.

“I need copies of every document carrying my signature from the last thirty days.”

Her expression changed slightly.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Twenty minutes later, she placed six documents in front of me.

Five were normal.

The sixth wasn’t.

SHARE TRANSFER AUTHORIZATION.

My name appeared at the bottom.

Claire Bennett.

My signature.

Except I had never signed it.

According to the document, I had authorized the transfer of nearly seventy percent of my company shares to an investment entity called VM Holdings.

VM.

Vivian Miller.

I looked at Laura.

“When was this submitted?”

“Friday.”

“Has it been processed?”

“Not completely. Transfers above this threshold require board verification.”

I exhaled slowly.

“How long?”

“Usually five business days.”

Today was Tuesday.

I still had time.

“Don’t reject it.”

Laura frowned.

“What?”

“Don’t approve it either.”

I leaned closer.

“I want whoever submitted it to believe nothing is wrong.”

At 8:12, Vivian walked into my office carrying two coffees.

She placed mine on the desk.

Extra milk.

No sugar.

Exactly how I liked it.

For ten years she had remembered everything about me.

Apparently that included my signature.

“You look tired,” she said sweetly.

“I barely slept.”

“Thinking about Hawaii?”

I smiled.

“Something like that.”

Her eyes moved toward my desk.

“Did you finish packing?”

“Not yet.”

“You should hurry. After you resign, we’re disappearing for a month.”

I studied her face.

“How are you paying for a month in Hawaii?”

Her smile froze for half a second.

Then she laughed.

“Adrian said he’d cover most of it.”

Of course he would.

Probably with money they expected to steal from me.

My phone buzzed.

Adrian.

Dinner tonight. No excuses. We need to discuss something important.

Vivian glanced at the screen.

Then immediately looked away.

Too quickly.

I realized they had planned something.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Her entire body relaxed.

That told me everything.

At lunch, Mr. Harris summoned me.

Three members of the board were with him.

On the screen behind them was my launch strategy.

“We accelerated the schedule,” he said.

“The financing partners loved your campaign.”

My heart began pounding.

Mr. Harris continued.

“The board wants to announce your promotion Friday instead of Monday.”

Friday.

Three days.

The same day the forged share transfer would probably reach final review.

I almost laughed at the timing.

“And there’s another issue,” he said.

He turned the screen.

A projected organizational chart appeared.

My name was at the top of marketing.

Below it were several departments.

And directly under my authority:

Senior Brand Manager — Vivian Miller.

Mr. Harris smiled.

“You built her career. I assume you’ll be comfortable supervising her.”

I looked at Vivian’s name.

“Very.”

That evening, I arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes late.

Adrian and Vivian were sitting side by side.

Not opposite each other.

Side by side.

Vivian moved when she saw me.

“Claire! Sit here.”

I chose the chair across from them.

Adrian frowned.

“You’ve been acting strange.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“With what? You resigned.”

I took a sip of water.

“Right.”

Vivian smiled.

Then Adrian placed a folder on the table.

“We wanted to discuss something before Hawaii.”

There it was.

I opened it.

A property investment agreement.

Adrian spoke casually.

“Vivian found an incredible opportunity. We can buy two apartments before prices rise.”

“How much?”

“About two million.”

I almost choked laughing.

“And where would two million come from?”

He reached across the table and touched my hand.

The tenderness would have fooled me a week ago.

“Your investment account.”

Vivian immediately added:

“It’s temporary. We’re family.”

Family.

The woman sleeping with my boyfriend was asking me to finance property for them.

I pulled my hand away.

“I’ll think about it.”

Adrian’s expression darkened.

“There’s nothing to think about.”

There was the real him.

Vivian kicked him under the table.

I saw it.

He forced a smile.

“Sorry. I just don’t want you to miss the opportunity.”

My phone vibrated.

A message from Laura.

Someone contacted Legal asking why the share transfer hasn’t been processed yet.

A second message followed.

They called from Adrian Suarez’s number.

I slowly looked up.

Adrian was sitting directly across from me.

His phone was beside his plate.

But Vivian’s phone was missing.

The orange cat’s warning had been right.

They weren’t only having an affair.

They were trying to take my job, my money, my shares, and then send me out of the country before I discovered any of it.

I smiled.

“Actually, I’ve decided.”

Adrian leaned forward.

“About the investment?”

“About everything.”

Vivian’s fingers tightened around her glass.

But before I could continue, a waiter approached our table.

“Ms. Bennett?”

“Yes?”

He handed me a sealed envelope.

“A gentleman asked me to give you this.”

I opened it.

Inside was a photograph.

Adrian and Vivian entering a lawyer’s office together.

The date was six months earlier.

On the back, someone had written:

THE AFFAIR ISN’T THEIR BIGGEST SECRET. ASK ADRIAN WHO REALLY OWNS VM HOLDINGS.

I raised my eyes.

Across the table, Adrian’s face had gone completely white.