They Stole Our Identities, I’m Taking Them Down

"Chairman," David's voice came cautiously through the phone, "your wife has used part of the company's funds for other purposes. Are you sure you want to continue this investigation?"

He was hesitant. He knew the weight of what he was saying and what I was about to uncover.

"If I don't investigate, how will I know what's going on?" I responded. "Get all the accounts sorted out."

There was a beat of silence.

"Understood, sir," David finally said.

The call ended.

I sat there for a long moment, the silence heavier than anything he could've said.

Before I left for treatment in Germany, Roxanne had promised me, with all the sincerity in the world, that she would take care of everything so I could focus on getting better.

But thank God I hadn't handed over full control. I still had safeguards. Hidden signatories. Cloaked authorizations. And I understood why that instinct had whispered to me not to trust her completely.

If I pursued this and followed the trail of financial discrepancies and forged signatures, Roxanne would be finished. Not just publicly. Permanently blacklisted from every major financing firm in the country.

But even now, even after all this, a small part of me hesitated.

She was still Blake's mother.

I was about to call her to give her one last chance to explain when I heard a scuffle down the hall.

Heavy breathing. Raised voices.

Blake!

My heart leaped before my feet moved.

I rushed down the hallway and froze at the scene before me.

Blake was surrounded. There was a circle of boys sneering and jeering around him.

At the center stood a red-haired kid, yanking on Blake's arm, his voice laced with cruelty.

"Kneel and apologize! This is the latest release from the new Apple series! You, the butler's son, can't afford to pay for it! Hurry up and lick it clean!"

Another boy laughed. "If it weren't for Cyrus pitying you, who would even look at you? You actually thought you could steal his girl? Denise is his! You're just a piece of dirt."

The redhead continued, riling himself up. "Cyrus is the only son of the Knightleys. Everyone knows that! His mom, Roxanne, even said so at the last PTA meeting!"

My pulse roared in my ears as the truth unraveled.

The butler's son, Cyrus Boy, had taken Blake's place in my family, and Roxanne knew all about it.

I moved before I even knew I had. Shoving past the circle of boys, I pulled Blake into my arms.

And then I saw him.

Cyrus.

He leaned casually against the lockers, just watching as he smirked deviously.

Not lifting a damn finger.

His look was predatory. Entitled. As if he believed Blake belonged beneath his feet.

The slap cracked through the hallway like thunder.

Cyrus stumbled back, holding his cheek. "You hit me? You hit me?! You're just my mom's little toy! You think I can't have you kicked out of here in five minutes?!"

The words burned in my chest, but it only made sense now. He must've thought Roxanne had all the power in the company.

I didn't respond. I just stared at him, letting the fury simmer beneath my stillness.

"You're just a butler with a little charm! Do you even know that Cyrus is the heir to the Knightley Industries?" Cyrus's friend, the red-haired boy, defended.

Then, he paused as he looked around and added, "These buildings here? They were all donated by his father. Who the fuck you are, old man?"

I turned back to Cyrus, my voice dropping into a mocking tone. "Is that so?"

The boy didn't understand.

And then, another voice chimed in. "Even the principal shows respect to Cyrus. He's a VIP here!"

Clearly, Cyrus didn't realize I had funded and overseen the buildings he was boasting about.

I turned to the principal, Victor Spencer, who had been hiding in the background, sweating bullets.

"Is that so, Mr. Spencer?" I asked coolly.